Even as you drift your mouse around this page, you will see the arrowhead form it takes: pointed, blade-like, sharp. It has always a bit surprised me that this almost-violent symbol would be used; and similarly, that a letter-opener should take the form of a knife. This poem is all about that dagger, and the notion of using a weapon to open our letters: latent threats in our correspondence, even used in communication with the ones we love.
I avoid the blade of letters. Dagger end
Of finger-entry into stationery
Along the edge of a private V,
A long sneer sideways through a sheer-licked smile.
I cannot stand that old way of stealing mail,
All To Whom, and From, and neatly laid
In correspondence, flicked open. And the blade:
It is a grim thing, for a loved one’s written hand.
But I keep my eye on another blank square
With the same old Tos and screen of Froms,
Parallel, and stationary, layout clear;
And with my right hand control a pad, or type,
And through a wire to my new desk top
Still hold a white dagger over your name.
It’s better when it takes the Mickey Mouse-esque glove form when it hovers over a button.