The Missing Person
A pamphlet droops from the letterbox
like a tongue. Not the usual tarot pack of cheap deals
but a plea about a missing person.
Letterboxes all down the street
are panting the pamphlets.
Missing since June 23. Please contact ...
I crumple it up, cram it into my pocket
with receipts, bills and old shopping lists.
All day the missing person is trapped there.
As night settles and it starts to get cold
she burns against my skin,
my pocket fills with ash ...
I keep an eye on the news. There’s
plenty of sport, but no word about the missing person.
My thigh grows blistered and sore.