The Post Office

Where did the sun go? the
teller says, as she weighs out my envelopes.

I look out there
but do not answer.

I know it was supposed to storm
all day, and it had for a bit—that morning—against my windows
but beyond that, I’m baffled.

We all stand there looking outside,
me and the teller and then the second teller,
contemplating what to say about the weather,
about where the sun went.

Then in comes this guy
with messy hair and a lot of crap
stuffed into his pockets.

Excuse me, he says,
have you seen two unmarked packages
filled with angels?

Yes, says the second teller,

and he goes to get these
boxes filled with
angels.