“I was much too far out all my life.”
—Stevie Smith
(from “Not Waving but Drowning”)

She works the last
word, worrying it
with her tongue
against the roof
of her mouth.
One more suck, then spits

it out. Chops
it up with a cleaver. Sprinkles
the remains into a manila envelope. Seals
it. Licks

a billion stamps
to stick in a line
on the outside. Mails
it to the moon.

Let it be, please,
let it be
moon.