Here is a poem written by one of our members, Katerina Ebrecht:
She stacked book upon book splitting this bedroom in half
Books lie on top of the armoire, across the hardwood floor on to the bed
A permanent memory in the mattresses foam
Trenches of books
Warfare makes sleep restless
He kicks
the occasional Bronte sister stumbles on to her face
He scrunches the white sheets in his fist
He screams I love you
She can’t hear through the palisade of novels that tower
She has forgotten how to love without a drink in her hand
He screams what the fuck is wrong with you
He turns cold from the scarcity of love
He has unlimited wants, but he is faced with her limited capacity to love
He makes the occasional visit to the neighboring nation
When he is hungry
or horny
He doesn’t bother to kiss her sternum like he used to
She doesn’t feel the electricity it created anyway
She lets him have his way
She is empty and no amount of him will fill her
But he will leave won’t he?
So the ugly architect lays there and reads the spines of the books that created her wall
Her unsurmountable mountain was conquered as the invader breaks down her last defense
Eerie memories flood the gates
She screams never mind
On the inside