Dearest,

The words are gone again, my friends.  It's feared they are never coming back.  They never felt permanent, always fluttering bird bones.  There is no feeling left in my bones now.  The words, my new abandoning-friends, took it when they left.  When he left.  When she came and went.  When the change came and swept her up on eagles' wings.  I just sit in my machine bed, awaiting the newcomers.  The ones I meet Wednesday.