Sending poems to magazines
I can’t help wondering
whether this envelope will be
some postal worker’s last straw,
what the odds are
my work will result in massacre,
and just before dropping each
manila poem-packet, which
ultimately will be rejected anyhow,
into the mailbox, I pause,
hesitate with the choice
of just turning around and going home,
that if I keep these poems to myself
it might just save some lives.
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