Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Bully at the Library

The Bully at the Library

The bully at the library feels itchy, twitchy like
one-too-many sweaters. Like the old man leans in sudden to
pop you one. Like the stump-tailed cat next door.

He carves his misery into a spine of Shakespeare. His thick
hands among the stacks are clumsy birds. Knuckled dumb by
narrowed choice and chance, he settles into story.

For a moment, his fury is lost amid beckoning worlds.

1 comment:

  1. Shelley,
    This is beautiful and tragic and hopeful. I'm glad you wrote it.
    - Zac