On A Book I Meant To Read Poem by Ananta Madhavan

I opened the book at a page,
Not entirely by chance,
A page crammed with print,
Some lines were left blank,
Spaces marginal,
As if to invite comment,
Or at least a sideline,
Pencilled, unstained by ballpoint.

I let the words and adages and quotes,
Slide into private pools of silence,
Hoping to awaken
Words as yet unwritten, unsaid,
But implied.

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March 12,2016