The Bibliophile

His bedroom in shocking disarray:

open books tossed on the unmade bed
like burgled dreams.

Ransacked companions of the mind and
second-hand succubi rooting through the sheets.

Quickly I closed the door, but later
imagined him calling each one over

for its turn, then casting it aside, face down,
while he fondled another.

His hands pressed against their backs,
pages splayed and divulging.

He opened them to the spine like gutted fish,
devouring the spoils of their words,

like a sultan in a harem, a sacker of a sacred city.
The library of Alexandria lying in ruins

because it could not be consummated,
even in a lifetime of nights.

Copyright © 2004 Jeanne Wagner All rights reserved
from The MacGuffin
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission