Return
Airmail and Mexican postage
I placed the letter beneath
your pillow and lost
you as dreams wandered
into suenos and caminos
meandered in the subjunctive
how I wanted to climb
into your voice, have you hear
the sky throwing snow
drifts up to the back door
and I shoveled, dug out
the car, a way to the mailbox
a labyrinth in the front yard
each shovel full and tossed
until my arms no longer felt
your absence and my ache
moved from my chest
to shoulders and hip bones
