Two Poems

Written pages have no goals.
They sit, at ease, and converse among themselves.
Blank pages are still idealistic–
they cry out for change,
organize small, badly-planned page-revolutions
that always fall apart before the coup.

Written pages sneer at blank pages.
Yet at night when they’re alone,
written pages get worried looks on their faces
and confess nothing.

An excerpt from “Pages,” by Norah Esty

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