Library Poem by Katie Finley

Library



It’s when lines overhead begin to blur—
Sharp angles and sloping arches of an old library
Trying to look older, stained glass unintelligible, only
Black space, silver metal cutting night—

It is then the mind leaves, travels to someplace
The tired know, where the mind is free and pieces of words
Dissolve into letters of the alphabet, one million
Almost-words.

When it returns, the mind sighs like sun softly
Whispering against glass, the colors intelligible on wood,
A million saints just barely touching the sides
Of paper where letters begin to reform, taking shape,
Vibrating throughout body.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
1 / 3

Katie Finley

Minnesota
BEST POEMS
BEST POETS
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success