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library book.
by Emily G Myershe calls me malicious
but i told his mistress
honey, i understand
but she didn't wanna listen
(she thinks he's hers
...like i do
...like she does
this love quartet)
really he's no one's
not even his own
he lends himself out
like a yellowing hardback
with a thick plastic cover
dewey decimal in black magic marker
down his spine
i would kiss every number/dot
but you never know
where library books have been
coffee stains
(or diet coke)
& he asks if i could fall out of love with him
& i don't know, but until i know
i have my library card. 03/09/2009 Author's Note: poems only come now in frantic bursts. and you know how i hate to revise anything. this was in the shower. wrote it over sudoku puzzles wet from dripping hair.
Posted on 03/09/2009
Copyright © 2025 Emily G Myers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/09/09 at 12:12 PM Sounds like the best time to write poetry. Heh. Nice work. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/20/15 at 08:46 PM I enjoyed this metaphor very much. "he lends himself out
like a yellowing hardback
with a thick plastic cover
dewey decimal in black magic marker
down his spine" - great stanza. Congrats on POTD!
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