Postcard to Michael Ondaatje - 1




Postcard to Michael Ondaatje - 1


Dear Michael,
The secret love
only you and I know about
worries me.  It cruises
through the Amsterdam canals lost;
it’s in the slow demolition
of the ceiling; the naked children
shaking from the morning dew;
whales coming to die in New York City.  
The hunter’s arrow pierces
my most silent sensibility. 
My inconclusive poems
are dying of neglect;
I have a throbbing
head-ache.  Please,
come back home
as soon as possible.

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