Confessions of a Librarian

So you say you like a smart girl
One that you can appreciate
for her mind.

This mind lies
between the sheets
of Bronte and Yeats
and everything sensual
before, after
or perfectly intervening

I would love for you
to say something
under the breath of my dress
searching
with longest lingo
as I stretch upon highest step

Would you give me a hand
dearest man
this ladder is a bit rickety

Steady me
as I touch
those books
in silent corner
where no one ever goes
telling by the perfect shelving

That clever corner
where both mind and body
melt in allusion tome

Would you slide your reach
right up the middle of pure silk
where secret ink weeps
from the pages of my book

Would you shush me
as I moaned

Whisper to me
how you would descry me
if I'd just step down
a little farther

Reaching
then pulling
then speaking
in deepest recital
your private verse

into my aisle of hush
where it is so hard
for me to be quiet