Underdeveloped, fading.

Due date a negative number now,


Light as cellophane.


Creased accidentally down its spine.

Brown envelope growing microscopic fur (lanugo)

from years of handling.

Written in ink on the triangular flap

the word Private (in bold).

Ghost letters E.D.D.

Liquid metal smell (almost) of oil.

Under a magnifying glass

lack of clarity amplified.

Grey, the colour of an industrial blanket.

Not quite steel, but steel wool.


without comfort.

Scent of an illicit library book

you forgot to return.

The yellowed smell of shame/guilt.


smaller than a human adult palm.

Devoid of sound (completely, wholly mute).

The off-white head

never quite entitled to call itself bone (white).

A static blot, where a heart should beat.

Litany of numbers.

A barcode

you need a doctor’s eye to read

or comprehend.