Open Page Poem by Fred Rik Kesner

open page


A faint shift moves along the skirting,
lifting a thread of dust into a slow turn
before letting it fall back into place.

The table grain keeps its line
as light settles across it,
steady in how it meets each ridge.

Near the windowframe,
air gathers itself around a single curl of curtain,
holding it in a quiet sway
that seems to know its own balance.

The chair beside me adjusts by a fraction,
its weight finding the floorboards
with a patience that feels familiar.

I sit inside this arrangement,
matching the posture the space has chosen,
drawn into a sketchbook's open page.





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