Stationary Speaks without writing on it

We trade sheets of stationary 

like trading cards inside our envelopes.

I receive a piece crisp white with a lavender silhouette 

of a woman’s body within kelly green vines.

At the bottom of this page

two hands cup together

begging for food 

for money 

for mercy.

A dropped cigarette burned

a perfect hole like a hole puncher

inside this woman’s right palm.

I’m left to think,

should I tell her?

I think it’s time

my pen pal quits smoking.