Bibliophile

by Erina Booker

Bibliophile

by Erina Booker

I was your unique, special edition book,
read as some unimaginable artefact:
your fortune, your raison d’être –
you opened me with astonishment
oh so slowly smoothing down each page
with your beautiful hands –
no bent corners
no margin scribbles
all pristine,
reading with absorption
no skimming
no skipping
each word a gem of your Truth;
In your pocket
everywhere you went,
(too afraid to leave me alone
in case I was stolen, you said),
embellishing my words
with colour and light and fire –
an illuminated manuscript,
your name copperplated inside my front cover.
But when that one-way door
closed behind you
I was still in your pocket.
I now write myself down
over and over and over
onto blank pieces of paper.

©Erina Booker 2015

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