The white space no longer white
pulses. Drips of ink vibrate
the paper. Whispers of indented
secrets, former trysts forgotten,
addresses of long-ago lovers.
Or, perhaps, nothing more
than a laundry list,
the weekly groceries,
a doctor bill.

# # #

Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in New American Legends, Toho Journal, and Chiron Review, among others.

Photo: Markus Spiske