Marked Page

— part one —

The coffee spilled on that page
will be there for the rest of the days
the small volume holds form.

Someone will scan past the mark, and
In the Moment
know this was held in human hands.

It may be me.

I may remember the fall morning
and that it was not without care that I spilled coffee
but more the urgency, more to fulfill
a need more profound.

It may be someone
who casually calls it off the shelf.

Or someone dear,
should I give it away.

The oil from my skin will be invisible

The blue smear from the grape will not.

The wear of the paper on page fifteen where
I held tightly walking to high ground
will be unseen

The brown-yellow spray of machine oil (page thirty seven) will not.

Signs of distraction or immersion?
Really, the answer makes a difference,
In the Moment.

And… what of the marks left by those words in that book?
Are those made plain on me?

It can get messy.
Sometimes we can’t clean up first.

There’s no poetry in clean rooms.