A short jar candle with the words “thank you” glowing softly.
Photo by Daniel Andrade on Unsplash

Give yourself a try
said the 1975s
staring from the screen
orange hair, pinstriped mean

Reach back for vinyl
splayed spindle to edge
bridging current, years
flat back, streamed tears

Render unto them those pieces
cherished most
hanging tatters of selfhood
torn off, unbounded gratitude



Stack of old leather-bound books
Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash


There once was a person contrarian

Who fancied themselves a librarian

They hired some elves

To pull books from the shelves

And turned all of the readers agrarian


A passable title of Boss

Given one who resembled a hoss

“What long face?” queried they

Who were answered in bray

Trotting off with a mane-shaking toss


So she fancies herself a writer

Binds up words tighter and tighter

She gives no one credit

Til they’re ready to edit

And considers them all cheeky blighters

4. (Last, but not least and has nothing to do with libraries.)

Ode to The Sassenach

There once was a distiller named Sam

Who fancied himself such a dram

To thus wet his whistle

Nips of heather and thistle

At ninety-two proof — — Bam!



Red telephone box on a lonely highway
“Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?” Photo by LoboStudio Hamburg on Unsplash

“Don’t consent to be hurt and you won’t be hurt — this is a choice over which you have control.”

Epictetus must not have had children, else he would have qualified his statement.

It’s the day after Mother’s Day. There is still no communication from either spawn. One lives 1400 miles away, goes to school, has a job, and a girlfriend.

He’s busy.

The other is seven miles away, has a job, friends, and a cat.

He’s busy.

We’re supposed to assume that people who hurt us do so without malicious intent. What are we to think when every advertisement in the past month included a Mother’s Day reminder? Can I blame “generational differences?”

Maybe it’s a “guy thing.”

Guess I’ll mow the yard. The snakes I run over don’t consent to be hurt either.



Christine Carmichael

Christine Carmichael

Academic librarian passionate about sharing knowledge. Old enough to know better, young enough to say, “Why not?” @ccarmich52 for more.