Public Republic

Colleen Harris

Photo: the bbp

He wrote about dull mountainside detail,
said they wanted books on anything but war.

Ecstatic the way only a librarian can be,
she mailed ten boxes and promised more.

It is his sister’s fault the XO is confused, men
strewn across the mountain, bewitched by dead

writers. Patrick stands at attention, hands a dog-
eared book to the XO, who scratches his head.

Paradise Lost? he asked, baffled. Are you kidding
me, Marine? He spat by his boots and cursed.

The librarian’s brother said, “Sir! I wanted
Beowulf, but Livoudais got to it first.”