P.S. by Chandra McKenzie

thanks for writing me to say
politely
you are fine
and still in love.
Did you ever really understand what I said
that night we had steaks and wine?
How strange it seems now
to remember categorizing my adorations
so as not to scare you away.
I know now that I tread so
softly
into your affections
that you mistook it
for indifference.
I will not open musty closet doors
by sending desperate prose
through the mail.

I will simply say
the weather is fine; and I
no longer believe in fairies.