Library Coffee

Drops of blood
from an orange awaken
her to choosing. She occupies

the end table because
it’s open. Clean glass
window walls corner

her to be
free to search
an after five

sky. Her findings
will be cataloged
off site.

Clement

No more talking
about the weather, a giant
dragonfly dangles

from the ceiling
inside a giant
library. Her services

are no longer needed. Justice
will prevail
or fail without her. It’s January—

This inner rind is more than a third
place—is the mystery loosened
from its virtual frame. A peaches

crate is just a wooden crate
with spin. The revolutions
per minute for this plane

hum and whir—a fan

for unfurling home’s measures
in one simple night.