After a long time away
And with ink on my fingers
After refilling the pen
I feel a need to consent
To complete this book
Before I set out on my travels
Such that I might
Take the third book with me
Second is an odd place
Not a cherished space
In any of the sports
Which I practiced
And so with this book
Neither one thing
Nor the other
Just more scratching
On the recycled paper
As one listens
To the angelic chorus
And the singular island’s keys
