In Her wisdom,
the Goddess wraps each Soul in flesh,
like a folded letter,
and then each letter into its envelope
to come aware by degrees and be delivered--
if not by her bearer,
then certainly by the Deity.
This is why philatelists
are the true priests.
"Six pounds, nine ounces."
Care and Time are the postage which sends each mailing out
and into the World.
Touch my body,
My Love, my darling--
my skin, my face, my breasts are the characters
of the language which is both Common
and Mine alone.
Corrupt and change my usage, as I will yours,
until we say more together
than we ever did before.
As if in a mailbag,
here we are, for the moment,
Carriers are the new Angels,
and though the paper of us will be read--
will go illegible and lose meaning,
In the same way that each thing and creature
dissolves, even while flowing forward,
we will return,
two souls wrapped around each other,
couched in our own particular and hybrid tongue,
delivered back the Goddess, who says,
"Ah! You're back,
My brave and wandering Beauties."