Overdue

I moved it through three different zip codes,

tucked in a box with the plates and the shoes.

I meant to give back what the library owes,

or what your shelf was destined to lose.

Your name is in blue on the very first page,

a loop in the 'L' that I still recognize.

It’s been sitting in dust like a bird in a cage,

hiding away from my wandering eyes.

On page forty-two there’s a ring from a cup,

a brown-stained reminder of some rainy night.

I go to the shelf just to pick the thing up,

then put it back down and turn off the light.