Dearest Beloved, Smell this paper
i dropped it in the flour canister and it
has a wheat tang. Pencil is cheaper than ink,
so you get pencil. Ink is for church letters
and for grandmothers. There, i waited two
sentences before begging you to come back
soon; come back sooner than soon. I feel old
without you. Your mother fainted in church
last week when they read the names of the service
men (and my cousin Lydia! she's WAC). Mother
reckons your mother hasn't been sleeping well.
She says she almost fainted herself when the Deacon
sang in her direction. She thinks I'm sweet on him.
She thinks I was writing letters and baking cookies
for the Christian Girls' League bake-off
more than spiritual fervor. I do feel fervor,
but it is all for you, for you, for the best and bravest
machinist in the entire Pacific fleet. I am making
cookies like a mad girl, like i could glue them into
a raft to sail to you, to sail myself to you. Then you
could hold me, and I would smell like flour, too.
Flour and ocean waves, i'd be glue, your glue girl.
Forever True, Cora Susan, your Cora.
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