Leo, I found your postcard again The ink has died in places.. The stamp a pale rectangle From glorious yesterdays I still open my letter box Every after noon. Its slit gapes and heaves Like a ravenous beggar-tongue Leo, the times , they have changed You wouldn't know though would you Your grave is still Guarded by rhododendrons You wouldn't know.. How each day dangerously Clones the next. We don't do red-letter days any more Leo.. What the heck, we don't Do letters anymore.