Muck under the Text

They’re not good enough.
They don’t say enough,
The novels, the poems,
The talkative plays,
The science essays.

Some are exciting,
Some vivid, some rich
With gossip, fictive
Or factual, some
Fiercely predictive,

Some historical,
Some scriptural, but
They don’t say enough.
There’s something missing,
So you keep reading.

You’re dragging your thoughts
Through the texts, feeling
For something you hope
You’ll brush lightly first,
Before it cuts you

Open, like the tool
You grasped and fumbled
That fell in the words,
The all-purpose edge
Lost under the text.