My mother keeps mostly hardcover books in her library
that her lady dusts, I think, as I run my hand over the latest
borrowed one and wonder how the author came up
with such a grand story and haunting characters
in a time hundreds of years before she was born.
She sits in the gold chair on Tuesdays,
and reads them,
one by one.
There are mysteries, fantasies,
medieval times, stories about decks of cards
playing a solitaire mystery and a young boy
who is constantly making things.
And don’t forget the green dragon.
Her eyelids painted with frosty blue eyeshadow
that smells like Halloween.
Half closed as she looks down at the pages.
She has the longest most beautiful eyelids I have ever seen.
Perhaps they go on for miles,
especially when she is reading.
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