Crisp as a dollar stuck in the sand,
The sheet spread out like a star-fish,
Inviting the grainy eye to leave the room
And its innumerables to rove the still
Waves coalescing on the empty page
Where I have kept a question to glint between the islands
Like a glass, like the look that links them
And is nowhere in between them, since the sheet
In the middle of those islands --
I have written a name on it I cannot see.
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