Tuesday, June 14, 2016


When Eugene Atget took the photograph
In 1923 the last public letter writer in
Was already centuries old. You can see it
In her eyes. Her equipment was scant --
A bent-legged table a centurion gave her,
Inks made from oak gall and copperas,
A chair, some quills, the customary cat.
When you needed her, she'd turn up
Next to a fountain or under a bridge
Or outside your house or in a dream
If your need was truly desperate.

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