Poetry of Issue #7        Page 26

SARGASSO

I wait for the mailman every day

regretfully
the cards and letters
do not keep pouring in
thank you

sorry
we are not all
in one place
and I am too busy writing things like this
to look up old addresses
even though
I’d love to tell you
how the sweeping palm
in the front yard
brushes the awning in soft breezes
or the cactus
that flowers every evening
long days on the beaches
nights alone in bars

  Gregg Weatherby