Books Don’t Float
Years swim by
and so goes decades
down
drowned by a cloudburst
Of prewar construction
Made damp with divulgence
And disrespect for a wet
behind the the ears inked
and linked history
As I list another few degrees
toward purgatory I nod at the
lack of constancy; a simple soul
on another damned shelve…
cataloged by a dint caprice
of the current.
