This is "A Peculiar Caravan."
"The tiny letters that make words
also travel through windshields, through your eyes,
across tables, and past mausoleum doors.
Some of these letters have attained a strange resonance.
Inside the e's, skeleton heads wobble and clack,
their garnet teeth glinting in the weary glow
of your little nightlight.
Someone has dropped an old green jacket on the k's.
They have fallen again, into their sleep of uselessness.
Also, the b's and t's are wrapped in a wild embrace.
They are crying and won't let go of each other.
You walk around all day in clothes, tiring the world.
Every night, the tree outside your window
has a nightmare about a campfire.
In winter, as you ready yourself for bed,
it scratches strange new letters onto your frosted window.
You dream new words with them, outlandish
shapes the world has yet to see.
By morning, they have all trundled off
in a strange caravan.
But they remember how you laughed,
your arms open wide, while you chase them."