One day will arrive the black envelope <br />inscribed, as all others, with her silver handwriting. <br /> <br />Those before me who weren't fit enough <br />to throw it away immediately fell into <br />madness or a waking death. <br /> <br />So direct <br />and uncluttered <br />she wrote <br />to each of us, <br /> <br />her friends, <br />her family, <br /> <br />torn aside all possible defense <br />or retaliation. <br /> <br />Laid empty she held a mirror to our souls and snuffed <br />it as she had done her own, but with words instead <br />of a knife <br /> <br />Mine will come. <br /> <br />I'll hold it in my hand, shaking. <br />I'll sit alone, <br />open <br />and <br />read <br />it. <br /> <br />Drunk on whiskey, <br />loaded gun by my side.<br /><br />John Kipling Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-black-envelope/
