Move Over

Before the bookshelves bulged
with poetry, several Bibles,
commentaries and a few fiction books
they held my collection of early
mysteries, fiction, and an occasional
volume of critical literary analysis
But when my wall space shrunk
I asked each book if I could live
with it on a public library shelf
The mysteries went, critical criticism
disappeared, and only the fiction
I intended to read again stayed
But every poetry book remained
Poems grow with you, each reading
uncovers more, layers upon layer,
every pause, each breath another
place to wander, and every reading
another engagement