White On White

There’s something to be said for a blank canvas
but, as with denim on denim,
it won’t be to everyone’s taste:
what suits her might not suit him.

But I like what’s being left
to the imagination here:

There are no footprints in the snow
No words on the page
No obvious info
No actors on the stage.

Maybe there’s a hidden dove
cooing softly to itself,
or a white rabbit
with his back towards us,
or the drained white ghost of Amy Winehouse
no longer going back to black.

Perhaps the beard of Santa Claus
is blowing gently in the invisible breeze
and there might be a reproduction
of the Beatles White Album cover
concealed in the bottom left hand corner,
or a rare white deer
hiding from a hunter.

Best not bring the deer to anyone’s attention.
I’m hoping it will be safe here,
concealed in the long white grass,
and be left to graze
for days and days and days.


Bill