Wading through morning's harvest <br />of the mail reaped the usual <br />bills, flyers and junk ads. <br /> <br />Then I spotted the familiar lazy scrawl <br />on the table before me. <br />After all these years... <br />a pearl among the cow pies. <br /> <br />I marveled at how the letter felt, <br />tucked into the pocket <br />of my bluejeans, <br />first halved, then quartered, <br />where misbehaving hands and mind <br />breached ceremonial rules, <br />not to touch <br />and not to want to open. <br /> <br />I was unable to ignore it <br />or throw it away. <br />I'm not sure how long <br />I walked around with it there. <br />I only know <br />it began to burn and blister <br />and scorch my self-control <br /> <br />and not until I saw the jeans <br />in the machine, letter and all, <br />twisting and turning in soapy water <br />was I even aware of what I'd done <br />to find peace.<br /><br />C.J. Heck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-burning-letter/
