Robert Verdon, #403, letters

letters

to the sea that we

do without, on a day sandbagged with

yellow cloud,

yucca

dropping one’s glasses in an empty park

flowers in dreams of balconies over perfect

city-states within states, hot

lines

of summer rain arranged like

antennae and tramwires and crosses on buns

letters

from the lens ground

underfoot

capturing briefly

what we have never known

we do without

letters

read when it is too late

to care