B&D <br /> <br /> <br />There I sit in Dunedin Public Library <br />my spine turned toward the Octagon <br />through concrete fences & facades <br />Robbie Burns’ statue shambles <br />arms outstretched <br />birdshit on his shoulders <br />to fumble through my pages <br />as I stand unopened <br />squashed between Baxter & Curnow <br />quite happily, at least... <br /> <br />& there I flourished <br />quite briefly, if nowhere else <br />in my florid imagination <br />at Auckland University Library <br />in the soft hands of a woman book-buyer <br />who took a chance on a ‘no-name’ <br />(just file me under ‘C’) <br />to fill a quote with her order <br />& no doubt if she stopped to read <br />she would have found every typo <br />every tumour, but hopefully <br />she would have found the gold <br />beneath the grammar & heard <br />the breath behind the stammer <br />before she cast me on the shelf <br />somewhere between B & D<br /><br />William Cook<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/b-d/
