Books want tiny, close spaces in which to live
corners, crooked shelves
small pieces of dusty carpet
places to sit, hip to hip
or lean dangerously close
exhaling the ideas between their words
into air built to take them in

There they cuddle together, quietly
waiting for gentle fingers to slide down
their spines, graze the glossy columns
of their covers, look into their authors’ eyes
take them home

Karen Haefelein


One Response

  1. a poem for booklovers – it speaks to me,

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