Mail Lady
The van idles: inside its cage
she hops like a starling
from dashboard to counter.
Lady seer, shuffling the motley,
the significant and trivia.
revealing now, the stamped
and foreseeable.
A flick of her wrists
between each numbered box -
we open that tin mouth,
reach in hesitantly, for bolts out of the blue,
or just news from predicable snails.
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