Oonah V Joslin

The Book Burning

The book would not leave my hand.
I viewed its grimy cover
yellowed leaves
cracked corners
eagerly fingered
pages turned at tip.

The faded front had not the
vivid colours of today. Blue
bleached by years,
indented title all but disappeared;
Braille for blind eyes.

I ran my thumb along its
spine to give it
one last thrill then
as instructed
relinquished it to flame.

Expunged from the
catalogue
for all time.
Deleted.

I wish now I could remember
the author’s name.

First published in The Shine Magazine but now revised, this poem is based on an experience of working in a library in the author’s student days.

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