A Noble Brow
A lined spine is a beautiful thing.
Those ridges the textures of a literary
Consumption, standing proud testament
To past acts and present value,
Even as lustre fades.
Rest is the only cure for herniated
Leaves and sagging stitching, a simple case
Book for any surgeon in a binding
Agreement with Hippocrates.
Those floppy American things refuse
To wrinkle – a collagen of the cover –
Deny their very consummation in
A Hollywood of wholly insincere
Hardbacks have a rod up their arse.
Where is the fun in hiding beneath a
Jacket, inapt for rapt attention,
Wrapped in cloth and bored.
(Not to mention the price!)
Lines and liver spots and coffee rings
Memorialize a marriage of minds.
Shelved but not forgotten, communes
Of living words with a view, these sprightly
Raconteurs grow old in their fullness.