—for Carrie
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No. I’d like an envelope
sealed with wax. My initials
in its vermillion. A boy
to run my message to
your garden, where you await me
on a swing—blossoms up & down
its twinning ropes. Each one cups a
moth or tender bee.
I’d settle for a pigeon
with my affection amid its claws,
landing on your lap like it’s
an airstrip. Curled like the horn of
Aries. Unfurling I will
join you in a fortnight. Faithful as
the Gemini clasping hands. Columba’s
done her duty—flutters back to the
posting house.
I’ll mount my starry stallion
with its wispy, milky wings.
Lurching forth its nose to
best the leap & dash of light—
for love is the master of all—
as I’ve penned with Aquila’s
plume, corroborated
with a kiss, beholden not to
tech & innovation,
their heartless, errant vows.
Andreas Gripp
August 21, 2026
illustration: Johannes Hevelius (1690)
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