Dissident (Poetry)

I brought home more books today —
sandbags to block the rising flood
their piles bring small promises of comfort
help keep the anguish out.

Secondhand, their well-thumbed ways are proven —
already trod their maps
and I can trace their routes at will — at any time
spring wide this body-trap.

Release pale petals pressed inside —
squeezed dry of passion’s sap
old summers thinned to paper thoughts
crackling to escape.

The scrawny rodent of despair
chews up its nest of words
these bent-back spines spell rescue now —
a choice of narrow doors.