When we shut the books ,
do the chapters rearrange themselves ?
when we turn the pages ,
do the words appear differently to us from
the last time when we deigned to read them ?
As for those books still on the shelf ,
the ones we promised to get round to reading ,
what of them ?
What transcendent ,immaterial juxta-positioning
of typographical content do they undergo ?
sturdy leather-bound volumes
tomes of immeasurable linguistic conceit ,
they’re never quite the same read twice ,
whilst once is never enough
to discover their latent deceit.