What if we could make our homes here,
blanket forts stretched between
the aisles. You could claim whichever
section you wished,
as long as I could have cooking
or the 'featured reads'
(those I would claim as my own,
and set my pillow beside them
as mock territorial boundaries).
At night we could attach booklights
to the shelves and put on shadow plays,
to spite or ease the hush that
swallows all sounds. And in the morning
we would wake in the children's section,
our individual forts forgotten
in favor of cultural exchange and
comfort, with the sun
brightening the dull colors of night
and highlighting dust motes in sharp relief.
With the farmers market outside every Thursday,
we would never have the leave.
So I've been spending quite a bit of time in the library, and... The New Albany library is more peaceful than the one near my house.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
No comments:
Post a Comment