Case of Books
Six slabs of wood
tethered together to form
storage, pieces of paper
filling from side to side.
Can’t find one, already
read that one, the white
oak cloaks the media.
Warped from the stress that
suffered from the printing
press, need more space
fact of life.
Couldn’t move now, just
arranged them all in order,
in no specific order.
Horizontals on a vertical
layer, then a row
in front of those.
I should probably sell
these but how do you put
a price on words, on
paper? Charity could
be the only answer but
what if I find myself
stranded
with cancer.
I guess there’s always
libraries but there’s nothing
more financial then ownership.
I own those phrases, to
a degree, but the book
case will always hold a
pedigree over me.
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