Public Library

People at tables in long rows
Receding faces blued by computer screens

Overhead a symphony of light fixtures
hang like glabrous fruit

The homeless have taken their stations
cursing to their vacant companions

An owl near the Swift collection
calls to Coleridge’s birds

A coelacanth in natural history
stalks someone by the creaking radiator

Ophelia’s lament echoes
up the grand marble staircase

A switch has taken place without people knowing it–
magnetic north has been replaced by a wind sock

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