The Woodward Post

View Original

Book Store Blues

an imposing figure stalks on the edges of delirium

saturday spinning, lemon limelights blinding blinds on the windows

nightly, new novels are deposited in the collective library of knowledge

daily, she dies another death. drugs? no, disappointment

she is only one

lifting pages, gently sobbing

blue snow, magical mysteria

he approaches without a hint of awkwardness

an honest offer of his hand, a book

“for you”

but she is only one

not fooled by charlatan authors or the cult of cliche compendiums

blue snow, blue glittering covers of fine quality paper

with a quick twist, she rips it away from the rest of him

turns to page two hundred twenty thousand infinite million and one

snow blue, ice blue

ice blue eyes staring right at you

blood runs through his hands like water, the man is never satisfied, the man,

the man is the magical mysteria of this world

she sees through his arctic facade

she must fade to cool one day to love him but we have a problem

she sees through man and his cliche capitalist compendium

same blue girl, same blue guy, never a spark of red in sight

but for her blaze of isolation

include her. include her. the man leans in for one last seductive whisper

her tears cannot freeze to icicles, instead morph into flame

he has a dagger in his hand. can she apprehend him?

for her people are quashed underneath the weight of blue man, blue woman and the like

not a red, yellow, green, in sight, but the lemon limelight blinding blinds shine from the crimson warriors’ hearts

across the sea, they’re just called criminals

not individuals

she is not the only one, we are legion, we are many,

we are lemon limelight, melt through

the snow white and snow blue 

the true magical mysteria of this world

stalking on the edge of normality, the delirium called normality

saturday seeking, to enter humanity, with humility, modesty

justice and love, love and love and love and love

and in two hundred twenty thousand infinite million and one days, months, years, milliseconds, mayhaps decades

the dagger is pulled from his hand. he is apprehended

free is she and she is free to roam the pages of new novels

deposited in the library of knowledge, little reflections of what she sees in herself

and in two hundred twenty thousand infinite million and one days, months, years, milliseconds, mayhaps decades more,

she will not be only one

she will be hand in hand

reddish hue and reddish hue, not cliche capitalist compendium cursed blue

she and she will be free and free

she will be free and free will be she, with her

and her mother will say to she, for the justice and love, love and love and love and love of she and her,

in humanity, in humility and in modesty, 

“my daughter loves you, which means you are also my daughter.

for better or worse, you are a part of our family.”

e.l.s 2021

Disclaimer-

This was originally a “found” poem written for English class; meaning many small bits of this poem were inspired by phrases or words found in books. All of these words and phrases were recycled into something different, with the exception of the last line, which struck me so deeply I decided to keep it as it was. This line is from The Shadow of Kyoshi by F. C. Yee, spoken by the character Hei-Ran to the girl her daughter has fallen in love with — no spoilers!