Defeat handed me
A letter; corners neat,
Skin pale, body
Trim. On the back,
A seal with the letters FU
Pressed hard
In black wax. On the front,
My name, dead
Center. No loops, no frills,
No flourishes. Just cold,
Black type.
I threw the letter
On a fire and delighted
In its crackle.
He Who Wanders 