My Dear Bibliophiles by Gary Margolis

My Dear Bibliophiles
by Gary Margolis

My dear bibliophiles,
no one
in the world better than you
to appreciate how a lifetime

reader feels (read me)
choosing which books
to save, which to box.
Carry to the curb,

to be trucked away.
Donated. Burned.
Buried in the library
of a landfill. For time

to turn its mound
of pages. Some solace,
I suppose, in knowing
a genre

of moles read
in the dark.
As chapters disappear.
As a line in a poem

breaks. Turns. Comes
around. Like a refrain.
An image in the first
sentence of a novel
the writer ends
his story with.
A boat
drifting off

its mooring .
A row boat.
A painter painted
on the dust jacket.

The book designer felt
Would draw the reader in.
Would have her wanting

to see what the boat
could mean. Even if
it meant nothing
on first reading.

And would come to stand
for the invisible
Who was said to pack

two books
in his bait box.
One for now.
One for later.

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