Mostra

Display tables stacked with books,
Brightly printed paper bricks,
Were romances, regardless
Of how they were classified,

Since, like romance, they tempted
A body with the promise
Of joy, possession, new love,

A greater satisfaction
In the anticipation
Than in the acquisition

Of one more forgettable,
Flammable weight on the back,
On the shelf, in the chest, peine
Forte et dure, yet again.