The library staff changed
and my heart grew a little colder.
Not bitterly cold—just room temperature water
pooled when crying in the tub for too long.
The library staff changed,
just when I wanted to share a crazy idea:
that maybe my poetry had a place
there among the authors.
I knew a guy, a bigshot library guy—
thought I’d make him my messiah, but
the library staff changed,
and I witnessed an interview.
I could tell from the prospect’s face
that she knew about the change,
and that it was coming again soon,
and that home
was a crazy idea.