Cries in the Library

 

The baying of a wounded beast 

is simply the peripatetic cries of

a child in this largish library.  It 

must be in the vaulted main hall

as it echoes and resonates then

winds through porous spaces of

of rows and rows of books lined

on metal and wooden shelves to

find me sitting at a table with a

copy of The Martian Chronicles.

I wonder at its wounding, what 

makes it cry so inconsolably.

Maybe a trip to Mars would set

the child at ease but I’ve heard

it’s not the kind of place to raise

your kids, in fact it’s cold as hell.

Well, maybe just a journey in the 

safety of one’s mind then, OK?

But the ability to read is still far

off in this unhappy child’s future.

***