Peace and Quiet

I hide my photos
in-between volumes
of “Shakespeare.”

From pages of prose
I unearth memories
at a leisurely pace.

Against the leather spine
my nails tap a warning:

Shh!

A library is meant for quiet.

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Double-Edged

Thy grin is a sword of alabaster —
I’d turn my throat gladly upon it.
Lest thou think to do me harm,
I would bid selfish reprieve.
In life, thou hast claimed me,
Yet death rusts thick chains
And grants all freedom dear.