Under the Bulbous Light
fingering white pages, one by
one, painted with ebonic ink.
borrowed,
i’m blushing
like a bride.
the rush
of pages,
windmill
churning…
so careful, this klutz, sipping tea.
lady grey,
graceful,
citrusy.
book rests under the bulbous light.
minutes,
so close,
without a spy.
singular tea bag holder, rose chintz,
chipped away at my piggy bank.
tea-stained spoiler
tainted twenty pages or so.
librarian
eying
the drip.
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