Friday, July 25, 2003

(bashing in a library)

red rivulets radiate out from the orb on the cold tiled floor
blackening around the edges
and dribbling ever closer to the edges of the metal shelves

she would inhale a cocktail of blood
and stale back-room air
if she had the privilege of breathing

and the girl looking for wisdom
to guide her through a secret she could not bring herself to tell
will never find that wisdom
will never tell her secret

the foundation of the shelf is an inch of metal
so there's no chance the gentle, old leaves of wisdom will be harmed
so other brave souls may follow if they choose
and find the courage
to prevent the scene that transpired
from transpiring again
to prevent the ones that follow her
from buckling under the same secret

and her secret will be unearthed by breathing ancestors
and clear rivulets
will stain the wooden floor of her hovel
as they come to terms with the scene that transpired
as they come to terms with the door behind which she lived

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