Here’s what inspired my first letter-poem to Karen:

Decadence

In Geneva, post boxes are yellow

colour of decadence, of the book

that stirs young Dorian Gray

to taste forbidden dreams.

Yellow as Van Gogh’s chair

as flowers that follow sun

or look too long. While others

click and send, I lick and bend

white triangle lids, stick secrets

under stamps, conceal guilt with ink

and hand-scrawl love.

What text contains a wet stain

of regret or drop of rain?

Instant messaging can’t hold

the weight of the unsaid.

I write and revel in the faded;

bananas at the point turning,

old tobaccoed hands.

At the yellow box, I squeeze my letter

once for luck, then let it drop.

I hope it reaches her this week.

My cheeks glow secret suns

as I imagine hands, the sharp edge

of a butter knife, slitting open.

Fingers touching paper, touching

my fingers where I have touched.

I’ve played with the line-breaks a bit, but it still looks very messy - my early drafts usually do. I’ll be posting subsequent drafts here - perhaps with some help from Karen. The envelope I sent contained only the poem and some yellow pencil shavings. Karen responded with her own letter-poem:

Karen may post her own version too, as I don’t have a scanner.

I’ll end with a picture for Karen:

More to follow…x