Prompt Master Poems

Mrs. Nelson

Mrs. Nelson catalogs silence with practiced grace,
A guardian posted in paper and paste,
Her glasses low on the bridge of her nose,
Observing the order that carefully grows.

But something tonight hums wrong in the air,
A rustle too sharp, a presence not there.
The fiction aisle murmurs long after close,
And biographies shuffle without being chose.

Her ledger is tidy, the checkouts align,
No books returned late, no missing spine.
Still, mystery lingers in Dewey’s domain,
Like knowledge misplaced in the folds of her brain.

A draft curls cold from Restricted Room Three,
Though the door’s been locked since 1963.
She pockets her keys with a tightening grip,
And moistens her lips in a worried eclipse.

The card catalog rattles; a faint little shake,
As if unseen fingers make drawers gently quake.
She slides one open with hesitant care,
And finds a new card that wasn’t there.

 

Line Count: 20
Prize Prompt: The most suspicious thing likely to make a librarian raise an eyebrow.
Written for: "PromptMaster !"