The day has been a lonely one.
Letters I didn’t send lie on the table,
Waiting, loveless, as unread.
I hopped you’d come here, but you didn’t.
The hills were beautiful as always,
though I couldn’t see them clearly,
looking at other things,
trying to fill up time
writing these letters.
Soon, I’ll take them down and mail them.
[They’ll go out tonight]
Then I’ll close the door and wait for you
in large, dark shadows.
Theodore Enslin, "P.S"
Rhinozeros #5 (1961)
