I feel a certain pleasure in letting
go of a letter after it has teetered
on the edge of the drop box’s slot
after I’ve nudged it with a flick of my fingers.
I listen for the landing. Is it
a resounding from the bottom of an empty
box? Or the soft shuffle of envelope
sliding on to a haphazard stack of other
sealed envelopes? Either way, my letter
is on its way. My words are written.
I am content to wait for the possibility
of a reply.