VI: Ink (Librarian I)

With ink of jet, she shapes her world

With written, colored line,

So contrary, she laughs and twirls

In library of mine.

Around her arm, the ink in coil

Will paint the scene to set.

Her skin is seared with burning oil

Where art in flame is met.

Then up her neck, through nest of hair,

Where color threads are knit,

The ink will bind in dye its share

Of strands she formed by writ.

She flocks the books across the shelves

And tends her paper field,

Her mind through story page so delves

As word to ink will yield.

Library belle, my heart is smear and blot;

It lacks but ink to find its way through plot.

• April 2025