When was the last time you mailed a postcard?
My mother kept the ones I sent her. My sister mailed them back
to me after my mother died. I had forgotten I had written
so many small notes to my mother. The price of stamps
kept changing. I was always mentioning on the back of cards
I was having a good time. I can remember the first time
I lied to my mother. It was something small maybe the size
of a postcard. I went somewhere I was not supposed to go.
I told my mother I was at the library but I was with Judy
that afternoon. Her small hand inside my hand.
I was beginning to feel something I knew I would never write
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem