Climbing Ladders at Bookstores

Finally
arriving at the top rung of the ladder
I thought I had made so much progress until
the ladder swung north, me south,
book dropped to the floor, opened

spine broken, , pages, dog saliva splashed across
the title page, the authors name literally smeared with spit.

lovely.  such is life.

the kitchen smells of burnt eggs and left over fish,
boyfriend dropped the toothpaste cap into the toilet,
my boss, the only one I ever loved, marched out in handcuffs.

here by the pond, koi glide gracefully through still clear waters
only to disappear into the swirling waters of the culvert
trapped by a grate to drown in their own waters

Such are the mysteries of life, the first born a motley
assortment of words only a mother could love, seeing
their beauty beneath a slick layer of blood and mucus.
a triumph to join the many that follow ending up
in a blue recycle bin.

one day words fall in place like dominoes, the first good poem,
I climb the ladder again, tattered, slobbered upon, broken book
under arm to rearrange all the books that teeter precariously
shedding single words like tears to the floor only to be
swept up by an indifferent clerk at the end of the day.


Picture by Marty Caivano http://www.dailycamera.com/books/ci_17035198