Eating Poetry
Posted by Lanea on Wednesday, April 18th, 2018
Eating Poetry
by Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
Inspiration Rachel and I relied on for our poetry blog, and a beautifully fitting image of how I view reading.
Filed in Commonplace Project,Eating Poetry | One response so far
Kirstenon 19 Apr 2018 at 9:35 pm 1Lovely – is that the word I want?