“I hope this email finds you well.”

By Tamara Guhrs

This email finds me

back in bed

after I tried to get up

and the weight of adulthood,

missed choices

and complicated regrets

pushed me back down. 

This email finds me

dodging Capitalism’s leery grasp

and art’s wandering eye.

It finds me

poised between

reconsidering my options

and making a run for it;

between arguing with ghosts

I have never met and

apologising to others 

for promises unkept.

This email finds me

high, high up on the tightrope

swaying

the incontemplatable fall

beneath me

and the impossible sky above.

This email finds me

on a balding, bankrupt planet,

sorry

for the work of my ancestors,

fearful

for the future of my child.

This email finds me

in the drafts folder - 

an uncorrected proof,

a series of promises

backed by bad debt.

This email finds me

ransacked

looted

back in bed.

(Kind regards)

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