My unpaired bookend

My unpaired bookend
An unescorted
found not wanting

to take her slotted weight
of a ripped hide binding –
of one more unreturnable

No end support
for true-life stories
featuring her bends in time –
of tippings and double backs

under fading recall
as a distorted monologue
No squeezing into space
left on a packed bookshelf

No loose dust covers
to keep at bay
her sparkling particles
Now half a brace stood
for others’ volumes

Poem #1,596 of 10,000

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