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Sharon Kourous
reads
Books
in Real Audio format.
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I still have some of your books,
safely kept,
though dusty, stacked high beside the window
on a shelf. The couch where you slept
lost its impression of you, although
some sort of aftershave lingered, a scent
rather unlike you. The books slip
when trucks rattle the house, but can't
decide to fall. It's the way of things I keep
but don't own. As though entropy
can be fought, as if a layer of dust will preserve
a friend's smile, and time's touch will be
milder than street-rattle; perhaps we'll swerve
away from here —
or perhaps friends return to claim
these worn left-behinds, waiting like souvenirs
reversed. Some things stay the same
though all things change. Your books are here.
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