The Book Room

In this heavy room
the titles burn me, stab me;
Phrases dragging me down -
rows and rows of weights.
They stand there, sharp-toothed, just waiting
for my eyes to touch their spines.
This room draws in the seeking
hurting grieving lonely with
Dangled relief always a little out of reach.
What ruthless heartless gaping
appetite this space has!
Amplifier of ache;
What cruel, cold gravity!