Shelter Between Covers

colored spines line crowded shelves --

index finger absently tracing titles, I choose

where to escape, as afternoon light paints

shadow shapes across saffron walls

 

well-worn pages (comfortable), tranquilize me

like midnight confessions to straying saints --

I settle, as Boston appears upon the horizon

            of my entranced eyes

 

these thin sheets -- some yellowed with age --

are my refuge, elucidating the solace I find in words:

love in lines sewn together by extinct pens,

companionship in characters with convoluted antiquities

 

today the last shreds of August cover me,

like a layer of Egyptian cotton     I stand beside

Esther as she feels the rush of her bell jar lifting, and

            together we breathe

 

before I come back     sipping spiced tea

as the full-faced moon appears in low-sky luster --

a tattered ribbon protects my place in another world,

I smile, knowing my return is only a bookmark away    

Reviews

[Rita L. Sev]

You certainly do not get this experience from an e-reader... Reading this makes me want to go back to the days when my main hang-out was the library (directly across the street from our house) :) Though I have to say that The Bell Jar would not be where I would go for comfort. ;) Wonderful, warming poem, Sarah.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Haha Yeah, I find comfort in strange places... I think that this particular book has a special meaning in that it reminds me of college and the other fifteen times I've read it. :) Thank you so much, Rita.

[Clockwork]

This piece makes my heart sing. Since I've been away from the cafe, I've heard so many people my age lament that they have to read. It's fructifying to behold the example of another person who enjoys literature.

I like the escapism in this piece, and how you depict how the speaker travels to other worlds. Your second stanza is a great example of how one can feel more at home among the pages of novels than they do with their peers.

The final stanza is brilliant, full of rich details. The last two lines are magical.

[rutherford]

The hook for me was your metaphor of books as means of travel to other worlds. Last to lines expressed so well.

[Constance Claire]

Any person who has ever sunk in for a good read of an 'old friend' can relate well to this poem.

Very enjoyable piece :)

[Jordan Bryant]

This is lovely! There is nothing more comforting than rereading a beloved book.

[LJW]

Nice,Sarah. I visit 3 small town New England libraries regularly. The library in my home town has remained virtually unchanged. In fall and winter a roaring fire is lit in the adult reading room: a haven with mahogany walls, Oriental carpet, leather wing chairs and brass floor lamps.

And Sylvia Plath was in the same private psychiatric hospital I was in.

[Neverwhere]

This is a bit odd for me, because usually, I either like something on the whole or don't care for it at all. I like the first and last stanzas and how they feel, but felt disconnected from the imagery of reading the Bell Jar, which I don't care for, but I am not sure why I felt somehow disturbed by it. And the idea of straying saints frankly was a little off-putting to me. A lover's kiss, a ghost in the night wafting by, an angel on their own inexplicable errands, and I would be fine, but straying saints bothers me. Go figure. But I have to say, I like knowing someone else has a penchant for re-reading books that they love.

[Kleio13]

Earthly defying and a metaphysical taste.
Nice one Sarah

[MsJewel]

This reminds me of my childhood, hot summer afternoons spent in the airconditioned library losing myself in a story...usually of princesses and far away lands..and now, like you, I too cherish those well worn pages that expand our imagination while settling in with the warmth and comfort of spiced tea. A lovely poem. Wonderfully written. :) Julie

[William J. Marsh]

My sentiments exactly. How often over the years I have found myself living as a character such as Pip between the pages of a book crafted by one of the masters of old. To this day I still find myself with that cup of tea alone in a corner, yet finding between to aged covers that I am not at all alone.

[Horizon K.]

... I choose where to escape... Yes, I love this! And I recently read and fell utterly in love the The Bell Jar too, Plaths lines, so incredible, so this poem all the more rings true. As an aspiring novelist, I absolutely love poems that take me to that place, of what every story teller hopes to achieve, an unescapable escape, a place that will carry the reader away from these hot August days... I love the sentiment in this piece Sarah!