The Last Letter

[Philatone]

V. 2

when my body prepares
to imprison me in silence,
walking me towards my pine cell,
it will casually ask
for a last request
and I will have none.

I will not even have
a final word
to be remembered by
as they have all run out
like chairs at a table.

All that will be left
is an M,
a letter left hanging in the air
when all of its brothers--
the S's, A's, even the Q's--
were stroked into sentences.

Just an M
small enough
to be carried in a pocket,
while still too large
to crumple into a farewell,

potent enough
to poison certainty into doubt
and still show delight
before a meal.

M
one letter to show a thousand,
one sound to shut a mouth.

How unfortunate
to not have used it sooner,
to live without
the curves
of the pill
on my tongue,

to remember it
at the moment
the door is closed
and there is nothing more
to say.


________________________

Original


when my body prepares
to imprison me in silence,
walking me towards my maple cell,
it will casually ask
for a last request
and I will have none,

not even a final word
to be remembered by
as they have all run out
like chairs at a table.

All that will be left
inside this belabored box
is an M
small enough
to be carried in a pocket,
while still too large
to crumple into a farewell,

potent enough
to poison certainty to doubt
and still show delight
before a meal.

M
one letter to show a thousand,
one sound to shut a mouth.

How unfortunate
to not have used it sooner,
to live without
the curves
of the pill
on my tongue,

to remember it
at the moment
the door is closed
and there is nothing more
to say.