Amy Yun

A cardinal cover
with gilded edges
a small book
the spine cracks freshly
like the neck of a rose

Little stories inside
little pictures too
little ideas buried in the pages
they want me to take them
to make them mine
to steal

I find them everywhere
all these ideas
little treasures
stuck in little corners
waiting to be discovered

They must be written
or they’ll float away
find someone else
as swiftly as they came
gentle little feathers on the wind
only noticed by a careful ear
an ear listening for their stories

I wonder if I’ll find them all
like an Easter egg hunt
the more I look
the more I find

Will more be hidden
is the supply limited
is creativity
a nonrenewable resource
a scarcity
something to be rationed
not consumed gluttonously

I’ll take the risk
drink it all up
never sober
for fear of dying
if the well runs dry