When He Leaves Me

Prior to his leave-taking
Does he leaf through me
Or is every page, every line perused?

Does he ask himself,
“What sense is this making?”
Or does he simply scratch his head,
Bemused, thinking
“I ought to have snoozed?”

If an “i” is undotted
A “t” without its cross spotted,
Is that hard to bear
Or does he even care?
A word is misspelled or erroneously used.
Does he feel abused?

If the adjective is “pleated”
Whereas it should be “broken”
And the nouns are misspoken
Is the meaning irrevocably defeated?

That is to say, if “with pleated” plow
Sits the farmer bestride his “broken brow”
Can ...the meaning be rescued?

Will the reader realize that the agrarian
Is in fact with thought imbued
Regarding his useless farm equipment?

And when this lector opts
To become a defector,
Will it cause him pain,
Leave a stain on his heart,
In his brain?

If so, will he know?

As for me, I am mute, unheard,
An onlooker. I will never utter a word
Though my whole self is replete
With words I cannot speak.

I am neuter, an it.
Unlike the speaker,
I am voiceless, without wit.
I am not, nor will I ever be
Unless someone opens me
And reads what is inside
And ponders all that I cannot say.