We read burned books
from the ashes they swirl
like smoke from a leaf
with the ink-shards
of letters
in indecipherable smudge
and whorl
on the unseen page
of the undisturbed
air. Though
the story is lost,
We'll stir
the book absently,
counting the cost
and we'll peer deep
and down
into gray dunes
and channels cut
by idle drafts,
and discuss, in
disgust
what meaning we've found.
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