Sinking Ovation


She swears like a sailor 
And has a librarian’s mind
A bibliophile lost at sea,
Raised by a pack of alley cats.
When she was without books,
She read people.
When she was isolated,
She read messages in constellations.
When the sun shone,
She read between the lines
Of singing bird’s beaks.
When her eyes gave out,
She read with her heart.

Her fingertips became
tattered
like the journals she scanned
Reading pseudo-braille impressions
Left over from impassioned
Scribing sessions.

She was a channel,
Unaware of her station.
She was a suspended beacon
Turned siren,
Cacophonous opus
A sinking ovation…

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