The Good Book

I seem to have misplaced this book.

I take your silence with a smile,
transcribe each unspoken syllable
that crosses between us.
We don’t need a torrent
of everyday jabber-
there is more than this.
When you look at me
from ninety degrees
(you think I cannot see)
a thousand  words
come gently across.
Against my arm,
your shoulders give off
a silver spun novella
and each hair in my bed
whispers a sonnet
when you are gone.
And now I wait to know
if there will be
Chapter Two-
you are that good book
I cannot put down.