Smiling, While Knowing the Difference Between

In the study, next to the kitchen and
lined in gorgeous windows,
sits an old dust jacket
hiding the contents of his favorite book.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you why
it's his favorite book.
Perhaps, though, he'll smile like he always does
right before he whispers the truth.

He says,
It's the time before the new chapter
and shortly after the last one.
We, you and you, scan and skim,
and when the last period is done

you pick up where you left off,
find that numerical green light,
or cleverly abbreviated name,
and read on into the brilliant night.

But I want to know. I want to
see what happened between
Bombadil's leaving the council
and when they arrived in Bree.

I want to know that Ender's dream
turning his days into a murderer's
fantasy will all be washed clean
with Demosthenes's thunder.

What happens between the quill of one
and the first quill of the next?

And then, he's silent,
for he's said all he can.
He still hasn't explained the reason
that one book lays on his chair.


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