Two Floors High
The books, two floors high,
levitating toward my upper limbs.
Not costly. Worth every penny.
Spread out by the tablefuls.
Grateful for this claustrophobic,
pyrophobic atmosphere.
Pages fingered, on bindings linger -
what’s the subject…who’s the author?
Snatch up before the next in line. Don’t
get left behind. At the end of the line with bags, boxes,
wagons, carts, kids. Hand full of dollars spent
sans burns, scars; no heart attacks.
Smiles upon smiles find
their way back to the packed parking lot.
At home, a lovely spread of books.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
