From the Library
My cousins came from the library,
arms loaded with books.
“Girls,” I said. “Why do you take so many?”
“Because they’re free,” they said
and laughed like silver bells.
All day we sat in their attic room
reading stories about knights
and goblins and witches
who lived beneath icy ponds.
When it grew dark, my aunt called us
for supper, and we had
to shake ourselves out of the spell
those books had cast. She called and called.
Then, at the table, we were too hungry to talk,
as if we had journeyed hundreds of miles
hauling the treasure we had found
after the giants fell or dragons leapt shrieking into the sea.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Steve Klepetar
would be pleased to hear them.