Barnes and Noble

Hands on handles 

Open heavy oak doors. 

Stretches of concrete relinquish 

To coffee stained carpet.

Silence is filled by grinding metal teeth.

Steam leads a trail to roasted

Coffee beans.

Ahead lie rows;

Corpses of trees.

Sawn and screwed, carrying

Corpses clutching their knees.

Heads tucked, shelved shoulder to shoulder

Quietly screaming, “pick me please.”

Fingers lazily brush the dust off

Their backs, as eyes skim 

The alpha and beta tattooed on their spines.

Words embossed, carefully chosen

Clues to the contents inside.

Collected into arms 

already overflowing.

They are up in arms;

Stocked and sold 

Treated like a novelty.

Most end up as just

Another mantle piece.

Hands on handles

Open heavy oak doors.

Stretches of carpet relinquish 

To dimly lit concrete.