A man dies: nobody knows
his password, least of all
his ex-wife, who, settling affairs,
sits at the keyboard for hours
strumming guesses— captainamazing;
Clipper75; 1wshuwrhre1;
RiTaLiN. With each
scavenged computer file
or rummaged box
she finds a moment of him
that fits no others—
a .pdf on ancient aliens;
a book of poems inscribed
with My Love, Mary;
a Bible with dozens
of crooked corners;
ticket stubs for shows
she’s sure he’d never seen.
After uncovering each whimsy
she gives his e-mail another try—
black_knight_satellite;
MyLoveMary; doGearedGod;
XxXLuciusXxX…
She knows him so well
yet she will never know
the him of him.
Late one night,
long after giving up
her search for his essential,
she composes an e-mail
and fills it with all the meant
-to-says and frosty
secrets and wrangled truths
she can muster, sends it
Urgent! a hopeless letter
pitched to his mailbox
through the cyberspace maelstrom.
She gets an instant reply:
Undeliverable.
His mailbox is full.
