Priority Mail for My Sons

I mailed you an extra year
from another country
where wooden sidewalks
end in cinder paths

where privies lean
a little more each year
and morning light falls
weightless on rain barrels

Enclosed you’ll find a Chevy
with running boards
a Burma Shave sign
that points the way you'll

travel years from now
I’ve wrapped with care
the smell of citronella
camphor and cod liver oil

the gramophone scratching out
Hi-Di-Hi’s and Bye-Bye-Blues
A blade of grass to whistle through
a fortress at the beach

a woolen bathing suit that
shrinks an inch each season
It’s just arrived and waiting
at the back door of your life

Ruth Daigon | Mudlark No. 25
Contents | Night’s Other Country