By Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti - a poem that the above image brought to mind because like the poem, it too seems codified and a letter of some kind.



Postcard - Code

* * *

Napoleon, he Italian you know.

Me – a closet case, half-Jew. You too?

Hey, Italian = good. Did I tell you, he’s my cousin?

No! Napoleon?

Yes, really: distant, but true.

While you were away, I read every word… that bit about the hands, Rodin …

did I understand? (I think I did). Not sure.

Absolutely. Resolutely. Yes.

Oh, good… I thought, but you know. Anyway, hey –

He’s from Corsica . You = French. Both, me-you, we're mixed, intertwined, then, kindred.

Oh, right. We talked about this. Blood rich…

While you away… I never missed a day. Thought of you anyway, even tho I didn't want to.

Sweet… Thank you…me - didn’t want to miss you either, yet I did.

Now you back…. I think I missed a day or two (in writing, that is).

That’s okay, funny tho. Well, oh. Oh-oh.

Uhm, next thing…. oh!

I have everything… you need bring, well, only you, the spoon.

Honey – will you share?

Me – silly. A secret can you keep it?

Really, I'm not brave as you say. Just girl, sometimes sweet.

Did you know?.... Yes… Thank you…

Nobody ever sees… my own fault.

I see, you say. You see more than you know...

Oh, it’s all coming along by the way... the book

To NYC - self to follow soon. Can't hardly wait to see you...

Wait… You never answered… Reassurance comes in so many ways.

‘I get it every day…’ understood?

D’ccord. Tish, that's French.

We both get that.