Mail, Key West

Rosalind Brackenbury
Poet Laureate, City of Key West 2015-17

Late afternoon:
I lie reading on the green couch.
Steps sound on the porch – two up,
a creak of wood –
the mail carrier blocks the light
and there’s the metallic sound,
something placed, heavier than a letter,
less than a parcel, in the box.

And I think how, in the last century
in another country, across an ocean,
an earlier me wanted this future,
didn’t know what – a man yet unmet,
a house on a southern street –
threw in my lot

to become, over years, the one I am
today, reading on a green couch,
deep in this other life, yet
hearing the future arrive once more,
placed where I can find it,
exact weight, daily portion,
at my door.

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