La Bibliothèque Infernale
In Hell's library
there is no Dewey decimal system
no sexy librarian
no free internet
my curving spine is laid again
and again on the fire
till all my leaves ignite.
The pain is exquisite;
surely I never wrote
so many pages?
When I am ash,
the incubus comes
to breathe on me.
Words begin to rehydrate
papery skin ghosts up,
unfolding its crackled foxing;
my binding perhaps
is not quite consumed
for the incubus is reading,
his smile
the old smile.
~April 2014
Just one I jotted down while at my wit's end, another entry in the Incubus series....
Image: 'La Bibliotheque
infernale'
Paris, ca. 1870, early sterographic picture, public domain
Paris, ca. 1870, early sterographic picture, public domain
