[Newspoetry] How to handle White House --GOP RNC emails?

[DL Emerick]

My dearest once-upon-a-time lover,

 

You know that book of verse you loaned me,

A thousand brilliant days ago,

(Or was it only ten thousand black nights back)?

 

I finally found it,

Hiding behind others on my shelves,

Dust-covered and scrunched up a bit.

 

When you asked for it back,

I'm sure you thought that I lied

when I said I didn't know where it was,

or even if I still had it,

or that I had searched for it and tried to find it,

and failed, just like we did, as friends and lovers.

 

The book of verse was foretelling that, maybe,

Of how love is lost or misplaced, ignored ---

maybe it even said so, in its many verses,

instead of just showing us this to be true.

 

I read the inside front cover,

Where you had so finely sketched your name,

And even sent me a letter with it, long ago,

When you loaned the book to me, so generously.

 

I never saw the letter, back then,

And cut it to pieces before reading it today -

Some things are private; the past is one of them.

 

I scratched your name out from the book,

And I am not returning your book.  So sue me.

 

As ever, your erstwhile lover.

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