Agatha Christie Taught Me To Be a Book Worm

Behind a chair Below a desk with my bare feet on a wall, in my flannel pajama or a wet swimming suit, With my hands on my peanut butter and jelly toast, marmalade, not cherry or anything else Next to an ocean, ignoring the smell, Lying in a hammock or in the grass, even on a sandy gritty beach towel. Listening to children’s giggles, being dripped on by wet swimming suits running past I can devour a pile of books. History, science, animal facts, jokes, limericks, Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, Coleridge, Poe. When one grabs me and throttles me to pay attention I am lost…. I am no longer a mere mortal. I am in a microscope, under a kitchen floorboard, in a tulip’s leaf, I am a faery, a T-rex, a Stormtrooper, a police detective. In a treehouse, High above my neighbors, not hearing them at all, Yet subconsciously hearing everything, I learned to be a book worm, reading Agatha Christie first…. Written 3-08-19 Contest: The Bookworm Poetry Contest Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann