Postcard

Please refrain from misery. Every mouth, a mystery.
All my dogs done climbed your tree. We are louder
than we expected to be. Treat kindness as small horses,
oranges as false proof. And kindly curb your history,
or walk a fugue: I am a dog. I am a dog, too. But cloudier—
I am not a dog! I am not a dog either! Form is loose:
inverse as catastrophe for guaranteed delivery off-course
is the velocity of feather and ash, slight as sympathy
for fear or frigidity, those tender tails. We are prouder
of the approximation of footprints where pause forces
metaphors of distance. Courage, darling. This is a truce.
Erase the sharpest line on this postcard, sign any name,
or call me when. Punctuate () with a comma, a noose
for a hanged promise. Or call me () , if it sounds the same.