A flock of cards

March 15, 2017

I imagine postcards, gathering in mailboxes as if they were eggs waiting to hatch, then, when the mailman unlocks the front, flying like hatchlings, clumsy, then graceful, catching currents of anger and frustration across the country, gathering in giant flocks that fly in the shape of arrowheads, homing in on Washington carrying words etched like feathers along their bellies. They may all end up in a landfill. But for a brief moment, I imagine them darkening the sky over Pennsylvania Avenue, causing him to look out his window at the approach, making him wonder what powerful birds approach.

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