At the Library

Let’s write a poem now,
here at the library.
It’s air conditioned.
Desk and chair pulled up
close to a window with a view
that looks like a postcard.

The authors of all the books 
call out to me shouting,
whispering, enticing me
by yelling out their titles,
announcing their chapters.

If they could, the books would 
propel themselves off their shelves.
They would fling themselves 
at me, dance around,
do cartwheels and flips.

Their antics delight me.
I choose one.
The others sigh and groan.
I check it out and it walks
with me down the picture
postcard street to home.

Madlynn Haber

Madlynn Haber lives with her dog, Ozzie, in a cohousing community in Northampton, Massachusetts. Her work appears in the anthology Letters to Fathers from Daughters, Random Sample, Buddhist Poetry Review, Dissonance Magazine, K’in Literary Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review and other journals. Online at http://www.madlynnwrites.com