The Librarian
i crawl through shelves
searching each book
for a collection of words
which maybe predicts us
but finding only tales of other lovers,
i begin to write our story myself
–paragraphy by paragraph
turning pages into chapters
until i realize i have yet to know yrhalf
so i return to my quest,
tracing a globe with relaxed fingers
i explore my wanderlust
with the expectation of finding
something like home
the farther i stretch my hand,
the more places i travel:
kansas, missouri, alberta, africa
and i cannot always name the language,
but i know i would lose myself in it
forgetting mastery and fluency
,and relaxing in the hollow noises
which protect vowel sound from vowel sound
escaping in a foreign tongue
and finding myself not alone