slide into the teeth of the bin, and the drawer-door close.
He was wrong, the stranger, you don't.
You only need a stamp, if you want the words to
get where they're going.
For me, I wanted them gone from the pressing
murmur on my skull, gone from the insidious easing out
through my hair
to lash me by the throat.
So I wrote them down instead, put them in
The stranger assumed the words should be
sent, but I am a modern day witch
most words are better off in the graveyard
of the blue boxes than let loose on the world.