Vol 3 No 1 2009
When you have to
There is an invisible letter
scotch-taped to the turquoise fridge.
It’s for you, the corners
crimped from the leaking
roof.
‘Y’s fly close to the rafters
like too-white seagulls.
Their messages are invisible,
too. Out in the street
they don’t know
what to do with us,
us sitting in here
gnawing on the alphabet.
Leigh Nash