[Inspired by “Since U Asked” by Swim Good x Merival:]
When she was a child, she’d long for the hour
when the postman would come, pour a shower
of envelopes through their big, blue front door,
and she would dive into the pile, scramble on the floor
for the letters addressed to her: large, bulky packages sealed
with tape and dozens of stickers; animals and flowers,
shiny and furry, oily and squidgy. Those were the hours.
Now, she hid from the bright red van.
He was a harbinger of ill news, that man
who hurried about his job like a speedy worker ant,
who wore shorts in winter, and trousers when skin
dripped with sweat in the simple enactment of turning in
a different direction. How she wished her own path
would realign to a varied compass point, less dark
than the one frequent sender, Bill, like a preacher, proclaimed.
To see the pile of envelopes now caused her pain and doubt –
the effect was worse, of course, for her bank account.
She’d adopted a system of ignorance, a pile
each for the “unread”, the “read later”, and the “to read in a while”.
And she would, but right now, she had somewhere to be, and then after…
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]