“Blank Page” by Brian Batchelor

There it is, blank and barren,
vast in all its naked glory, a
sliver of past, present, future;
it beckons, this white noise,

this rectangle pool of refuge,
promising the holy healing waters
of could be's and what if's.
Its solemn pledge to hold

my words in eternal silence
goes unsaid -- or unwritten --
and I vow to give myself
never to take because I have

already taken so much. I am
timid, though, dipping my quivering
toe in the coarse milk
testing, gauging, prodding.

And it sits, calm, patient, awaiting
my feral travails and pathetic
proofs that, yes, here I can
be my own disappointment.