Tonight's Poet Corner: The Archives

The Archives
by Belinda Roddie

If everything goes well,
I'll have on my person
the bones of my ancestors
and a petrified jellyfish;
a crowbar to extract the
memories from my nasal
cavity; and the coat my
father wore when he
murdered a Nazi in '42
before escaping the ghetto.

I don't need many provisions,
but these supplies will be
enough to get me access
to the libraries I want.
The books are held in
cradles of dust, but the
words are still easy to read,
despite being in a language
that no one now speaks.

If I'm lucky, I'll find
the tome my ancestors
scribbled, using sharpened
stones and clay instead
of ink. There, the runes
are concise, but the spell
is the same as ever: Just
breathe in and out, let
your eyes roll back; then
let the world fold into
a paper airplane and fly.