Mailbox

All night my dreams snowed letters. Singly

and in sheaves, envelopes fell into my hands,

big manilas and tissue-thin airmails,

some with Chinese script and Chinese stamps.

Pages folded and signed. On red stationery inside

a red envelope, a shout of congratulations.

And me carrying armfuls to the mailbox.

Waking, I wondered at this paper blizzard.