she places her finger over her lips
cautionary measures
points to shelves in a dark corner
where I know dust hangs
like cobwebs waiting to kiss hair
that's where my loves are
each one fills a shelf
horizontal proof of its existence
she's filed them
dewey-style
under ancient history
i don't visit the library often
prefer to own the books I read
those shelves are filled with my words though
spoken and unspoken
released and entrapped
coded and lined up
leather-bound
the only organized aspect of my life
because they beg categories
so that my mind can live with the contradictions
that are my loves
the books it cannot own
the topmost shelf glitters
with star-crossed lovers
tangled hair of silver and gold
lives intertwined
braided by my fingers
released because I am merciful
a small placard reads
unrequited love
my will lies exhausted up there holding its breath
forbidden love is one down
covered by fallen leaves
that still rustle muted warnings to passers-by
a single petal
scent still clinging
snow frosting its edges
somersaults as though caught up
by winded sighs
echoes of my regrets
at not being able to survive
the season
sanctioned love is empty
roots tunnel underground
deep into the earth
under green things and what's above
because mixed in is childhood's sweetheart
and all that represents
looks like a mining town
gold nuggets the only souvenir of home
mine tailings the residue of not knowing
who one is
of still looking for the mother vein
the bottom shelf is barely visible
neglected and rejected
before its value could be
itemized or assessed
illicit love bears a man's face
lies dream-covered under
a blanket of darkness
that i've only peeked under sporadically
over the years
afraid he'll wake
on this visit though
i am not quiet
push her finger from her lips
kiss them noisily squarely
centre stage
draw stairs from every corner
as i dance across my shelves
tear off my clothes
draw the dust up around me
swirling
until the shelves teeter
dropping books
until they're volumes
and the words scatter
turn to wine beneath my feet
and i grab illicit love
lift the blanket once again
pull it close about my waist
wear Rapunzel's hair upon my head
cover one eye with the tumbling rose petal
place a nugget beneath my tongue
and walk
making a perfect spectacle of my loves
before those who only borrow books
and wear their loves
beneath their skin
“occasional library visitations” was originally published in …like lemmings…poetry over the edge Vol. 2. No. 2 edited by Melanie Marttila and Kim Fahner. The copyright of this poem remains with me, Monique Chénier. Please credit me if you share it, and kindly direct people to my website.
Monique Chénier - Author 