Today's poem is by Nick Ripatrazone
He did not deliver today, or yesterday,
or any day since the last storm.
I would not expect a letter or package
if the route was not clear,
but I shoveled a path to the mailbox
wide enough for a pickup. I have been
in a mail truck, know they are narrower
than an arm-span. Deliver my mail.
There is enough space for two trucks
if you need company and solace.
You could pull up holding hands,
pass the mail across, smack the flag down.
There is enough room to have a picnic.
spread afghans on the cold asphalt. Deliver mail?
You could deliver a child in that space,
include an extra respiratory therapist
for good measure. Invite the entire family.
We could have the antepartum party there,
the mailman and his lover dancing
in an area clear of snow and sorrow.
Copyright © 2012 Nick Ripatrazone All rights reserved
from This Is Not About Birds
Gold Wake Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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