Dead Letter Office
If you served, you know how it was,
holidays especially, the thoughtfulness.
Packages with gloves and warm socks,
if you drew the cold-weather ticket.
Packages with shorts and towels,
swimsuits, suited for island hopping.
Littering the landscape, anywhere
and everywhere, were other packages,
scattered after the shells and bullets,
the myriad instruments of destruction,
were removed and put to use
removing limbs and lives of strangers.
If you stayed on the home-front, waited
for letters written in hasty breaks
or the long hurry-up-and-waits,
you also lived with the buried fear of
the dreaded telegram or CO’s letter,
the heaviness of packages returned.
(after an unattributed 1944 photograph of Christmas packages for soldiers who have been killed or are missing in action)
10 thoughts on "Dead Letter Office"
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I admire the slow and relentless pace of this poem framed by the “If you served” and “If you stayed on the home-front” and by the words “Dead” and “returned.”
Thank you, Gaby!
Receiving those packages must have been like a moment of beauty before more blood. God bless all who have served. Nice writing, Lennart.
Thank you, Laura. As I commented below, I was lucky to both receive packages and come home physically whole.
Dead Letter Office
sets this up
Such a great title! I look forward these ekphrastic poems.
Thanks, Linda!
Yup! I don’t know if it’s still called that, but the Dead Letter Office was where undeliverable mail was processed. It fits the story perfectly.
Fantastic poem, Lennart! Your best in this series I think.
Thank you Kevin. I received gift packages while stationed off Danang in 1968-1969, so I know their importance to both sender and recipient. One of my work stations was a gun radar catwalk off the flight deck, where the dead and critically wounded were unloaded from the medevac helicopters.