How many letters have been found
between forgotten pages? Fragile little notes trapped
in the gutters, resting on receipts, coupons, strips
of quick wit barely holding intimate banters,
breaking action, disrupting drama, pausing
the author’s unfolding of a quiet scene.
Once, a torn tissue held a scribbled question:
“Will late dinner suffice?”
Perhaps the answer was trapped somewhere
in another book, another shelf, another time.
(for R & S. I found your book)