Tugging A Loose End

now,
with a quick second to look
back,
he takes the book
from the shelf,
leafs through to the
page she signed,
and re-reads the first paragraph
on the page

which
seems now to be
meaningless (not that
the words have lost
coherence, but that context
having changed their charge
has lessened to being
no more than a tingle) and
he closes the book
quickly,

replaces it
so that only
a drag-trail through
the months-old dust
is there to testify

to this second of
suddenly soured nostalgia.