in how i’m (homeward) bound
wrapped in cloth,
hardcover edition
laced with fingerprints,

is it in the spine? cracked but unwavering
perhaps the torn pages, underlines
is it in the softness of the papyrus?
or edges; cuts earned in haste.

in how my back is a yellowed loan card
tattooed by those who have held me temporarily
signed, dated.

but my first page, reserved -
in how i  am addressed ‘to you’
a labor of love
branded,
belonginghood
birth right

Is it in how  i am all bark
no bite
451 degrees
Fahrenheit
numbered pages
infinite
all leaves (of absences)
the vessel of a hero’s journey.

in how i was birthed from something alive
something with roots
foreign, far from here
in how i came from earth, and
to her i shall return.

in how i will be shelved away, margin(alised)
in how i will degrade,
or rather, be degraded (by those who put me down after one chapter)
is it in how most dont venture past my cover?
(i’m learning to be ok with that)

in how i come alive at your touch, restoration
how my words dance off
the pages when i’m looked at
euphor

in how i cease to exist when i’m
passed over
in how i burn
golden
accidental
alexandria.