Dead Letter

I was looking for a stamp to pay the light,

and found a sunset trapped in card and ink.

A desert sky, pre-addressed and bright,

with a name that used to make me stop and think.

The corners have curled like a shrivelled leaf,

the gloss is peeling back from the edge.

It’s a dusty little scrap of a half-formed grief,

still sitting on the table’s dusty ledge.