For dVerse Poets Pub tonight, the prompt is to write about the things that happen while we’re not paying attention, the small things in the corner of our eyes, half-glimpsed. I based my poem upon my almost unhealthy obsession with sneaking a peek at other people’s bookshelves.
Tales of the Unexpected Reader
in her bookcase I pick up
random titles, authors brittle, dead,
their fame clinging like heavy wet sand
to her hesitant words.
Blue Nights with a grain of sand
I assemble in her silence.
Genji winks at Kafka when
they witness my quick fumble, sorry mess.
Who are they to judge the
81 Austerities between women and men?