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The Postman Came So I Know the World’s Still There

The postman came this morning,
the rattle of his letters falling through the door,
passing as my only real engagement with the world,
as I hollow out the envelope,
and scan the contents in eager anticipation,
hopeless in my pursuit, in this endless waiting game
for 10am’s rattle and clank,
to clutch in my purpling hands,
an eviction notice for the trepidations in my head.

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