THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

Bruce McRae​

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Fine Edition

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In a second-hand book

someone has underlined

what they supposed to be

pertinent passages.

 

In an old novel

the last seven pages

have gone AWOL,

gone to that secret place

that missing pages go

when they go missing.

 

In this old paperback

is a remarkable stain –

an amateur Rorschach

blot on the universe

the writer created.

I hope it’s coffee,

but it might be blood,

the author wounded

by his callous critics.

 

Ten for a dollar,

reads the sign outside

the famous bookseller’s

infamous book shop,

tome after tome

containing hidden

messages from the past,

bus tickets, bookmarkers,

receipts, torn scraps –

little reminders to say

I must come back,

I must finish

what I’ve started.

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