You Librarian
You tame the Earth &
Books with one directorial finger
Into neat and pleasing pieces
Tearing rifts through paper
And hearts
To categorical satisfaction:
Middle aisle American poems modern
Early English at that edge
Against the back wall Native American
And negro in the corner.
Well Librarian
You may have this poem
When I am done
But I won't tell you
Where I was born or lived &
Won't say
Whether dark equatorial loam
Or red prairie dust
Colored my skin
What's the dirt?
When the glue's the same
And next time somebody
Asks for a poem
Just a regular poem from the World
You will have to show them this.
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Last update: 10 May 2000
URL: http://leo.stcloudstate.edu/kaleidoscope/volume2/whitesuburban.html