Listen to poem:
Lexi the Librarian
Every Wednesday lunchtime
Lexie temporarily leaves
the deafening silence of the multi-storey library
to swim at the local pool.
The echo and splish-splash
of the mothers and the toddlers, lane swimmers
washes through her busy mind
whirring with words and stories,
whispers of change;
shhhhhhh.
Librarian Lexie undresses,
emerges poolside, transformation unveiled
drawing looks as a painted lady
she remains Incognito.
Incredible pictures of mermaids and flowers and elves,
illustrations of her many selves;
for by day Lexie tends to the library shelves -
books to be catalogued and listed.
For Lexi loves orders and systems
yet by night, stories take flight,
she's an author of fantasy fictions -
prophecies and predictions.
As Lexie swims
her pictures through the prism of the water shape shift
and her mind drifts to the publisher,
the man who entangled her heart with his way with words.
Avoiding alliteration amplified his love language,
promised her a future in literature,
in cursive script he bewitched her,
he was wanting to brand her.
But Lexie read between his lines,
she found him grasping and greedy,
a dance with a demon,
and she told him, “we're not on the same page”.
And enraged she drew him
between the devil and the deep blue sea
just above her right knee
illustrated as an apostrophe -
a reminder that he was just too possessive.
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