Poem – Harvey McQueen

A Letter


Vanished is the postie’s
whistle; with the anthem at
the movies & a butcher in
every suburb. In today’s
letterbox, left by the bronzed
lady with strong walk shoes
there is a magazine & three
letters, one from you. Time’s
cover is a new youth god who
can pick & choose his scripts.
When our script was edited
I didn’t allow that happy
ending you planned. The great
mess we make of things. But
let me add, the sight of your
handwriting still turns my heart
into a frantic rabbit going every-
where at once. Goethe declared
architecture is frozen music.
So is memory.


Harvey McQueen

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