Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Third Poem for National Poetry Month





I COULD LIVE IN THE LIBRARY,



make my bed on the floor

behind the stacks in Business & Technical,

wash in the women’s restrooms,

eat meals smuggled in knapsacks

by friendly students,

listen to Vivaldi on the ground floor

at the bank of turntables with headphones,

lounge in Periodicals

with the daily paper and a bootleg TV

after closing time,

race up and down the stairwells

to raise my pulse,

collect my mail at the Circulation Desk:

                        Everyone is fine. The washer broke. What

                        should I use for diaper rash? When are you

                        coming home?


Published in Skin Hunger (Potpourri Publications, 1994; Scapegoat Press, 2007)

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REPLY TO COMMENTS (SINCE BLOGGER WON'T LET ME COMMENT ON MY OWN BLOG)

Mary, yes, the library is this restful oasis full of all those lovely books. It seemed like the perfect getaway.

2 comments:

  1. Wonderful! I could just see it. I once waited for AAA (flat tire) and decided that it was the best of all the places I could have had to wait . . . and has been a favorite destination most of my life. One day when I'd encountered an unpleasant person at my favorite coffeehouse, I made an unplanned stop at the library so I could go home in a better mood -- and it worked!

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  2. This is awesome... I love it... Its great... I wish it went on a bit longer... buy Circus Tickets

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