I was just whispering/ into her mouth

The trees, now, are trees
I’m seeing myself seeing.
I’ll always deny that I
kissed her.
I was just whispering
into her mouth
-Stephen Dunn/Slant

This arrived in the mail yesterday from a certain wonderpoet Rebecca. Thanks again, Dear. Had I not know it was coming it would have been very mysterious indeed. No return address, no signature – just a few musical note stickers and a faint postmark of Seattle, WA. Perhaps we should all send postcards with poems on them to random addresses around the country – maybe people would start to read poetry again? Maybe next time I’m at the post office I’ll buy a lot a lot of stamps.