By Kimee E. Santiago
May 14, 2008
Hey.
I got your e-mail.
They’re more like notices
Getting shorter as they come
Like I am a transaction.
I’m sorry it took me a day
To respond.
Had to go through the letters
You used to send me. I keep them in a
Bundle, Dear, by my pillow.
Tied loosely with the rosepoint sash
Of my night gown unwashed
Since you left.
How much do stamps cost now?
I knew you better when
Your illegible cursives would
Stroke me gently and
Then I would feel how you went
Through your day as your
Loops and tittles sigh with
The release of your pen.
And I would lean back, relieved
With pages consumed by your presence.
Before resealing your letters
I’d taste you in the flap.
5 comments:
this reminds me of the times when my auntie used to send us letters from abroad telling how difficult life of a nurse is. we'd cry as our grandma reads it then we'll read it again and again. now, all my auntie has to do is chat with us in front of her PC camera.
the internet is a good stuff, but we sure do miss the experience of reading snail mails.
i think the speaker in this poem prefers mails that come in envelopes over emails that tend to be less emotional and more concise.
I wish I'd receive love letters rather than those cheap text messages. I prefer notes to emails too. I've been tempted to tell my guy to write me a letter, or a simple song, or a poem, but I kept my wishes to myself, afraid that I'm just being too sentimental. Maybe, we just don't share the same passion in writing. Maybe it is just my whim.
But the persona in the poem makes me realize that wanting to see those honest strokes, and being able to sleep with those papers are not signs of over- sentimentality. They're just more real. Letters can bring messages of love and pains into our hands, and make the person writing them almost like a hologram image crying or smiling before us.
Kimee, dear, you're back!!!
This poem of yours, dear, it's pulsating with passion. I'm no hopeless romantic, I eat fire and crush beer bottles with my bare hand, but this poem made me bleed inside. Memories, memories, sigh!
ms H. exactly as you said, i was pulsating with passion when i was writing the poem!
shanna, the hologram...maybe you'd want to write a poem using that image.
i'd like to thank vincent for posting my last three entries for me. =)
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