A white page is not silky
but it lies flat.
It stares up at me expectantly.
Is it a pale body waiting for a tattoo?
It has no eyes but is wide-eyed.
No morals,
but it is immoral.
It wants touching, will be touched,
by anyone,
This white page.
A white page thinks itself
a fancy philosophical premise,
a tabula rasa.
A white page has nothing going for it
but is brazen about that.
Unashamed.
A white page shakes its fist at me,
has a foul mouth.
Reaches out it’s hand and clings to me,
simpering, pleading.
Won’t let me go.
A white page needs help
but repels it.
Gazes at me lovingly
then looks away.
A white page is a tease,
sizzles under my fingers,
pretends to have time for me
protests love even.
Lies there a sullen, unshadow,
a piece of light that won’t share.
A White page is not good for anything.
It needs stalking, scaling.
It needs to be overcome.
Or it needs to
Go Away.
1 comment:
There are some beautiful lines in this ... sizzling under the fingers, a piece of light that won't share. Great stuff!
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