Smelling Books

[aerickson]

Here's a poem I wrote about smelling books, because I like smelling books. They smell so good.


Smelling Books
Standing in the isle of a book store, sheltered between shelves,
I slide a slick covered novel from its nesting place cozy among the others.Great line!
Smoothly, it slips into my palms.
I cradle it like a lost treasure in a dragon’s lair.
Slinking out of the prying eyes of passersby, I stroke the shiny cover
feeling the raised type of its title beneath my finger tips.

Slowly, gently, I open the book to its middle and eye the crease
where the pages join in the binding.
Peering in, I hesitate. Not yet, I tell myself.
Savor the flavor.
My thumbs run along the edge of the pages
and flick through them, creating book-scented wind.

That’s it, I tell myself, practically drooling
all over the unsullied pages.
It’s time.
Forcing the book open to that middle once again,
I dive into its dark crevice, inhaling deeply.
The earthy, musty scent washes over my body.This seems a bit dramatic since the book is small and you had do dive into the crease to even get the smell.
Goose flesh raises the hairs on my arms.
Getting my fix of book scent, my knees tremble,
a light, floating feeling fills my brain as I leave the ground,
leaving everyone else behind me.

I like the poem up until you dive into the crevice (I like THAT line, though). The poem gets a bit over dramatic, maybe? I would think it would be better to focus on where that smell takes you - for example, maybe that smell takes you back to your first new book for Christmas, or the smell of your father's library or something. Thank you for posting this. I love the smell of books too!