Jen's Welcome Poem

The Librarian On Desk

by Jen Nails

I may have given up on saving the world but 

I can help you spellcheck your janitorial resume.

I can get you February’s Consumer Reports, 

unlock the study room.

You put me back together 

by how you fixed your scarf 

and then looked at your shoes.

I locked in again

when you smiled out the side of your mouth

and glanced toward the window,

by how you rubbed your forehead,

what you wore to school today,

your hat that matches nothing else,

the wail from your stroller baby 

as you held his fat fingers with one hand

and wiped your toddler’s nose with the other.

I may have given up on saving the world but 

I can chat about your daughter moving away, 

I can print you a guest pass, 

I can log you onto Minecraft.

I just shelved the book

you’re checking out,

my fingers tapped that same keyboard,

we meandered together in the TXes

looking for Giada DeLaurentis. 

We’re pages bound in one

spine, 

looking for resolution. 

We’re meandering plots

and tired dialogue, 

we’re holding fat fingers and wiping noses,

matching nothing else,

bound in one

spine. 

I may have given up on saving the world but 

I can show you where the witchcraft books are, 

I can show you where the Bibles are, 

I can let 

you save me.