Amy Casey, Neighborhood, 2007, Acrylic on Paper, 19″ X 21″
Second-Hand
I slipped into a used bookstore,
avoiding a downpour,
an old warehouse, ladders
stretched to its ceiling.
It was New Orleans,
dank rows upon rows
of thrown-away novels,
encyclopedias, cookbooks,
a smell not far from
fallen leaves after rain.
I thumbed through the
poetry, Frost, Auden.
a Richard Wilbur, which
I opened to the preface,
signed to Tracy, love
always and forever, Jonathan.
____________________
Mark Trechock