There are several of us

unruly children

climbing the stacks

toppling books onto the floor

constructing fortresses of fiction

and using paperbacks as weaponry

nearby a librarian mutters in disdain

There are other uses for those

 

Stalling out in fervent play

a faint humming catches my ear

between thumb and forefinger

and draws me near

a worn leatherbound tome

reels me in

crimson and burning

it calls me by name

I stretch a small hand to its binding

golden sparks jump through my arm

onto the cover

revealing gilded symbols

the room floods with light

its ancient wisdom unfurls

and I begin to remember