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.