My Own Private Ulysses: What Martha’s Letter Said

What Martha’s Letter Said

She will punish him for making me wait

Inside that cold post office pigeonhole.

And the only place he’ll communicate,

The shadows of bridges like an old troll.

He hides me in his pocket, where he’s free

To rip my white dress and then jerk me out  

and finger my folds and deflower me.

Henry seems kind, but deep down he’s a lout.

When he’s done with me, he keeps me confined

In a dark drawer, locked away from his wife.

But, my words, in turn, have captured his mind.

And when he meets my maker, she’ll take his life.

Martha, she’s hot, and she knows better,

To fetter man’s heart, just write him a letter.

Subscribe and stay tuned for more postal sonnets.

Same speedy time, same delivery channel.