Dear Postmaster:
My mailbox is still full of bees & I
still have not gotten any letters since
September 10, 1979.
How do you think it feels
to live with pests the size of pullets
& a noise like stripped
electric wires in high wind?
Maybe pretty soon I’ll dig up the
mailbox, load it into my truck, & release
the hive right here inside the P.O.
It would be exactly like at revival
when they cast out devils,
except it would be the opposite.
I may not have a civil service education
like certain individuals,
but I do know this:
once you’ve been chased
by a fiery swooping cloud
singing your name with a thousand voices,
you never stop running
whether you’re running
or not.
Originally Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 2.
