deliver me 
from myself

wrap me up
in crisp white paper

tuck me in with a 
quick lick
across the edge of my soul

be careful not to slice
your fingertips
on my ridges

I want to leave you with more than papercuts
I want to leave you, whole

print my name on the 
top left corner

Lady of the empty wood
314 Oak Street,
Hold-me, Illinois 

Someone who will fill my heart     
254 Birch Lane,     
I'll-hold-you, Home      

then stamp me
like flat stanley
like every letter
that's come
before me

and throw me
in a mailbox
in a bottle
in a lake

in wherever you
can find the time

if you see the mail man
down the street
slip me into rim of his
shoulder bag

he'll deliver me
somewhere

he'll leave me
on the doorstep 
of home