In a post office

built for their own
hands; in the minds
of the writers
  
the midichlorians 
sort the mail 
 
& then. Posted
inked, delivered. 
P.o. Box LexPoMo.
The writers unroll
 
the pens, dip & 
don’t ask. They write.
    
        
     just for a season, then
capped, cleaned & rolled
in the old stained aprons
        
  the slotted silver blades
are safe for another year.