No bags land

The postman brought me something today,

it was a bag with a picture of a penguin

riding a hen.

Oh yes.

Actually he failed.

Since I wasn’t home

he left a piece of paper instead:

The promise of a bag with a penguin

riding a hen.

No less.

And I felt sorry at night

when I realized the penguin

and the hen

would have to spend the night in a cardboard box,

surrounded by more parcels

and the notorious silence of the undelivered mail.

Riding and yet not going anywhere.

The penguin

and the hen.

Ownerless,

shoulderless.

I ‘ll pick them up as soon as I can;

post offices are no bags land.