By Paul Rabinowitz.
after deciding on a theme for my next novel
I assemble the main characters
a poet torn between love
and truth
the lover delivering a package
carefully wrapped in silk paper
placing it into his hands
he shakes the content
feels the weight of the gift
holds it close to the light
through the sheer wrapping paper
he notices her face adorn the cover
tearing at the delicate mesh
a handwritten note falls out
lines of poetic expressions
revealing all that’s in-between
with bitter resentment he rejects the gift
insists she take it back
as the cashier at the used book counter
holds it to the light
checks its content refuses the return
but offers an exchange
any book in the lower basement
on the highest shelf
in the hard-to-sell section
between self help and fiction
detailing complexity of our social behaviour
what we go through to fulfill our needs
bartering one’s life for single moments
strung together with hand written notes
no charge to gift wrap
once the right paper is decided upon
Worth
with another
book of poetry
out to the world
and my launch
finally behind me
the fact remains
these good folks
spend their hard-earned money
to own 70 pages
of what’s inside me
self-doubt increases
as I wonder
if the exchange
is weighted
in my favour
