I would have
lain in absolute silence
If you told me the world was not for you today
I would have shown you with my eyes
that I am not the world
and held my breath
until our heartbeats rose and fell
in harmony
And we would rest together
In that ember-warm library that is your mind
I’d lay my spine along the flat of the table
and prop my head against Collected Fictions
So that you could shim off your shoes
and tuck your cheek against the embrace
of the green velvet armchair
there would be no intrusions
I would make sure of it
And you would settle into a solitary dream
so that I could walk the lengths of your shelves
Pulling down books at random
to meet the moments you’ve held on to
to meet the people who walked this library before me
In a frightening act of jealousy
or courage
or self-destruction
I would dog-ear my page in Collected Fictions
And lay it atop the mantle
so that next time
you are forced to find a place for it on your shelves
Or perhaps to read it
Or perhaps to return it to me, unopened
and if you had awoken
To lift your half-dreamt gaze against my patient eyes
I would have kissed you
in the warm silence of your mind
