deliver me
from myself
wrap me up
in crisp white paper
tuck me in with a
quick lick
across the edge of my soul
be careful not to slice
your fingertips
on my ridges
I want to leave you with more than papercuts
I want to leave you, whole
print my name on the
top left corner
Lady of the empty wood
314 Oak Street,
Hold-me, Illinois
Someone who will fill my heart
254 Birch Lane,
I'll-hold-you, Home
then stamp me
like flat stanley
like every letter
that's come
before me
and throw me
in a mailbox
in a bottle
in a lake
in wherever you
can find the time
if you see the mail man
down the street
slip me into rim of his
shoulder bag
he'll deliver me
somewhere
he'll leave me
on the doorstep
of home
