A Blank Letter Comments

An envelope arrives unannounced from overseas
 containing stark white sheets,

perfect in their presentation of absence.
 Only a bold logo on top

revealed its origin, but absolutely nothing else.
 I examined the sheets,

peered through their grains —
 heavy cotton-laid striations —

concealing text, in white ink, postmarked India.
 Even the watermark's translucence

made the script's invisibility transparent.
 Buried among the involute contours, lay sheets

of sophisticated pulp, paper containing
 scattered metaphors — uncoded, unadorned,

untouched — virgin lines that spill, populate
 and circulate to keep alive its breathings.

Corpuscles of a very different kind —
 hieroglyphics, unsolved, but crystal-clear.
...
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