It spoke. Out loud.
Something in the way light hit
the dark scroll made me shiver.
I turned the page this way and that.
It was like holding an island
full of my judges. They were a stern bunch.
Memories assailed me as I watched the shapes move…
Being golden. Being invisible.
Hiding in a pocket (he saved me for later).
Glowing. Floating.
Soaking in every spice (with reckless abandon).
I wouldn’t change today- though it hurts.
I’d probably bleed more if I could.
There’s more… but I’m being interrupted.
“Have you no shame?!” the poem screams at me.
No. No, I really don’t.