James Walton #114 Snail Mail Cursive

concrete cures forever

I was told by a builder

not in the medicinal sense

but strengthening over time

then a letter caught up with me

on this winter’s day

so cold two ducks are on the chimney

billing complaint into the ornate mooring

the words came from before death

of our joke about moths in his wallet

he was too cheap for his shout

and how it really happened that day

at the Duke when one flew out

and we were on the floor laughing

just the carpet between infinity

the underlay of worlds

a vibrato stitch of things

hand writing filtered by sand

conversations with an albatross

hanging endings in final saliva

the stamp his last touch

when he reached for us on earth

taking three years to berth

with wings from a tropical butterfly