Elementary, My Dear Watson, Elementary!

The coloured inks
blossom into flowers
emerge from the snowdrift
whiteness of the page
as if defying this Winter
with that imagined Summer.
Here, a page is blank
screaming with silence.

There, a page is mute
except for a rose-coloured fingerprint
whorled into a world
of its own
a spiralling galaxy
becoming itself

a whirlpool
a vortex of you
as indivisibly you
as could ever be

as if the years had not come
and passed
as if Life, its questions asked
but left unanswered
as if
there was no ifs
as if you
blinded temporarily
by your falling hair
brush clenched like a rose
between your teeth

holding this page
between forefinger and thumb
staining it with the self
of this solitary fingerprint
calling across the years;
“Make us a cup of tea, love! ”

by Dónall Dempsey

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