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