Invisible Ink - Donna Shomer

I have a friend
she writes stories
some of take up residence
in my mind’s ear
they crinkle like
old paper
they rustle like
subtle fire I have
inherited their people
like one does certain
homeless people like the one
at the Venice intersection or
the one right where I get
off the freeway with my
dollar ready I really hope
one day that homeless
woman will be gone
for all of the right
reasons. She always says
God bless you. And maybe
God does. For a
dollar. But back to these
stories. There is one
that features writing in
the margins of books
that belonged to the mother
or the grandmother
spidery writing in
old thin pages sometimes
the ink is invisible and
only the dent
remains. I wonder what
happened to those books –
to their people.