In the Trap

In the Trap
disappearing into the gloom of the library stacks
wearing a yellow dress
nose down
following the beacon light of her phone’s screen
down the rows of shelves
lured on by tempting prospects of
gossip or chatter or just filling the air
the chance that the one something
she is looking for
might finally make itself known to her
from somewhere else
always somewhere else
to the words
she passes between in pursuit
of the opposite of
stop and look where you are
look for it where you are.
I make to call out but
she moves into the darkness
the fading fluorescent flicker
the last I ever see of her


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