My unpaired bookend
My unpaired bookend
An unescorted
thought-prop
found not wanting
to take her slotted weight
of a ripped hide binding –
of one more unreturnable
borrowing
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