The Booklovers’ Books
You can recognize us, the book lovers
By our favorite books:
That hardback with bent and balding corners
Which always fall open to a favorite page
As if it were an old habit too hard to break,
Or that paperback with the cover
That is warped by the perspiration of our palms
Which sheds its leaves like the tree it once was.
We know that we should have thrown them away
Long ago, but we can’t.
To us they are more than spatters of ink
On the ground guts of trees:
They are the treasured moments of our lives
Which we live and relive
Until we live the lives out of them.
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