By Ryan Flanagan


The mail

and I have an

open relationship


I could send a letter

to anyone I



a postcard even

from bizarre destinations

that may or may not



stalactites gathering

over my head like

salty bats


a message of panic

of happiness


of questionable penmanship

admitting to unsolved



the cold ones

like walking into a

meat freezer


and fighting back



that croupy morning cough

of smoker’s lungs


the way the skin on the backs

of your hands

cracks and bleeds

and stings

when you wash



this was all in my last letter


postage is a killer

these days


if you must know,

I lick every



oral sex for posties


and when I arrive

I hope that you are



that the day has not

been long enough

to impersonate a



I promise to write again


not to you,

I bore easily


and the mail

and I


have come


to an


One thought on “Open Relationship

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