Sorting through some folders from old workshops, because the file drawer was getting too stuffed, I came across a few I had left behind.  They needed some tweaking, tightening, but seemed to still have potential.  Here is one of those poems given new life.

Where Story Begins

Mine was born
between two leaves
on a library shelf.
I don’t remember which
first bewitched me.
I ate up every book
in the case, omnivorous
hunger for text, tone,
word to name my
place in the world.

Place shifted, words
multiplied meanings,
Too tall, like Alice,
to enter again through
that bookcase, I reach
for another book
to restart my story,
recover my where.