His finger traces spines; blind
he reads the gilded letters
embossed as braille
he’s forming stanzas in his mind.
Heart of darkness, beating.
Wanting.
Craving fleur de mal.
But the aged librarian can only dream in sepia
of nyloned legs
her heels, mischievous curls she’d kept hidden;
the way she used to eyelash him;
loins were longing.
his lips are parchment (dry from poetry)
forever reaching
back in time to the moment she moved out and left him pressed
between the pages
as a bookmark (one of many) in her books unread
Shay is giving a choice of pictures at toads. My agaed librarian had the eyes for books (he thought at first).
Janury 5, 2017
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Ooh, pretty.
Love these especially:
“he’s forming stanzas in his mind.
Heart of darkness, beating.
Wanting.
Craving fleur de mal.”
“mischievous curls”
“his lips are parchment”
How about writing one about him as a little boy?
My aged librarian is developing as a persona… soon I will make him remember those days as well…
Love this! You have really developed the character quite well in these few lines.
They always get the wrong idea at first!
I spent most of my life in and out of libraries. I am really enjoying your librarian tales
I have become quite fond of your librarian, Bjorn. I hope to read more about him. I’d like to know what he does when he’s not in the library – if he ever leaves. I do like the lines:
‘But the aged librarian can only dream in sepia
of nyloned legs
her heels, mischievous curls she’d kept hidden;
the way she used to eyelash him’
where you’ve sneaked in some curls!
“Aged librarian” is a potent metaphor. Here there is the bookish lover and the sinuous book-marm, whose allure and charm isn’t quite poetry yet more. Looking forward to more of the adventure!
A tale to be remembered and retold to the all the ghosts of New Year’s Eve, Bjorn–love the personas you create here, not just the librarian, but his consort as well, really come alive on the page.
It’s an ongoing project of mine to write about the aged librarian… I think I need to write from her viewpoint as well…
Oh what a story you have conjured from the photo. His fingers, nostalgically feeling the book spines, his parched lips, his memories………sigh. If I met him, I might date him, LOL.
Oh that image of being pressed and then forgotten between the pages says it all.
I really like that last stanza! And I love the librarian series!
Love the image of parchment lips, dry for poetry. It feels so true to the emotions, to the soul of a book-lover.
“he’s forming stanzas in his mind.” A great line!
Beautifully written and the comparison of books and men this women never read or stayed with is fantastic. Very visually descriptive.
Oh! the Adam has now gotten an Eve. The fem librarian has emerged. Interesting, looking forward to see where this goes
Much love…
I very much liked the last line, even as I am unsure whether “books” means “men.”
Love the librarian, and her dreams in sepia. Your last stanza is a story in itself. Wonderful!
You’ve really got something here… love these.