The word “Find” operates in this poem as both request and command. Is this a poem about not finding, but losing?
Can it be about the discovery of loss? It took me a while to understand
that my poetic space was almost entirely elegiac and “Epistle” was
written on the cusp of that discovery. The last line happened to me, in
the way that some of our best work seems not to be written, but, well,
Though this poem announces itself as an
epistle, it’s really a commentary upon a letter mostly withheld. Who is
this poem addressing?
That is the mystery, isn’t it? I think it was Kate Greenstreet who
said, “Making up a poem is a way to share a secret without telling it.”
And while this poem might not be secretive in the sense that it is
uncommunicative or unwilling, this is a poem aware of the power (and
burden) of secret-keeping.