Too Late

IMG_6096 Our writers’prompt was from Chris Van Allsburg’s The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. Mr. Linden’s Library – He had warned her about the book – now it was too late

The book of the day falls
following the tendrils
ivy creeping on to stone
burrowing in the cracks
events from sometime
slither to haunt sleep
wind their way in dreams
from long before

He not looking like his self
more a tawdry schoolmaster
with a schedule that
from inside the car
has become unravelled
winding long along a road.
I know I know
the map is lost

Windscreen wipers flail
the window is black ice
he drives on regardless
unseeing he knows
where he is going
To the garden of course
the ivy needs pulling back
there are a lot of knives involved

I am wondering
what happened to the car
and the ice on the window
and the schoolroom
and the books
where the words had meaning.
I see the knives
and I am angry angry

I see no reason
that I know of
for all this blindedness
twisting twining creeping.
in every thread
in each stretched second
of a sound sleep.


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