This Burnt Letterhead Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

At the very top of thecletter,
is the letterhead. It is burnt.
Address and all clearer to the reader
than the wrter. You are fired! As if
you were working at the gates of
heaven and had just been told to
go down with a number jump.

Fear-seized the ashes you are making
with this letter are going to lay
in your heart. Your life has come
to naught.

You tap your foot as the flames
help you read each word. This is
your love letter from life asking
you what next?

You swear with all the optimism
in the center of your navel therected
is no next. The numbers of the jobless
turn inside the silo called your mind.

Who would want me when I have
been retrenched. Which recycling
center takes rejected goods.The
answer is loud. 'All.'

You wonder as the hope rises
where that all comes from. Then
you apply a storm and declare a hurricane
of letters to descend on every desk.

The storm ceases to make the wind
howl when the gas tank is empty
and theRe is red everywhere, as if
the bank is also in collusion.

The letterhead reads itself back
relating those words you that say,
you'very been there before. Walked
the streets and saw it all. It is
summed in one in one word, 'regret.'

How can all these people know the
same word as if they went to dumb
school. Precious words exist out there
that can heal a heart when
the rejection letter is sincere.

Who can regret when they'very never
burnt such letters in the millions
you have? Only the king of lies.
Your mind pictures the writer as you
burn the letterhead.

Some folk out there are reading
the skies and writing more. They
have numbed themselves to your
letters with the burnt letterhead.

They went to the school of the
numb one called dumb school, but
they need one janitor. Take the
job. At least you will lock them
in on a stormy day and save them
from writing the next letter with
the burnt letterhead. Then life will
go into recess.



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