PINEAPPLE LIGHTHOUSE

Letters From A Mail Satchel Arrive

I get to look it up.
Surely, this is harmony.
Find out all the words,
collect them all and
preserve them like butterflies
in a scrapbook like
Nabokov did.
Anne Sexton, again your
wish is mine. I want to
save myself defend the insane.
Tell the public just what it
takes,
what guts you had.
A penpal will save me instead.
Her glorious days as
gigantically natural as yours,
sprinkling melodies all
over the mail.