Scriptorium

I clear a space for your new dictionary
on a bookshelf renovated to conform
with my current beliefs and needs

in the night your dictionary steals words
entire definitions, miles of entomology
from Webster’s 7^th, the OED, and the
Encyclopaedia Britannica 11^th Edition

the shelves crack under the weight
of your singular book
splinters, torn paper, loose typography

it’s a beautiful concoction of fragments
flush with the promise of
inspiration

[RK, 1/3/2021]


Spilling Water

boxes of books hefted on my shoulders
shelved in formally defined sections
tainted, tantalizing, trawling for buyers

I’ve dropped thousands
except for the few centenarians
their spines absorb the shock
 
I empty the memory bucket faithfully
but it refills itself with
multiple copies of cheap remainders

[RK, 1/3/2021]


The Reading Room Becomes a House

You throw a book on the floor.
It’s not the first time
this has happened.

Those bruises only show
under a reading lamp
clinging to the headboard.

You laugh it off, then quickly
shape your intentions into
a centerpiece for your guests.

Their admiration is unfeigned.

[RK, 1/3/2021]