Last Rites for Bookworms by Tanya MacIntosh

Stuff my favourite pages
in my mouth to pay Charon.
(I’ll leave you a list.)
He’ll know I’m bound for another shore.
 
Bury me under tomes in my tomb.
By my spines, the gatekeepers will know
I don’t belong with the trumpeters,
the roses, the warriors, the puritans.
 
Doors will open without keys, doors
connecting
Bodleian to Beinecke to Long Room
to Alexandria and to Ugarit
 
and all the libraries in between.
Grant freedom from Babel’s
muzzle. Ink sonnets in sinews,
sagas in veins, novellas in hair.
 
Remember when I said I’d sleep
when I’m dead? Absurd to
think I would, that the words,
the worlds would ever end.

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About Tanya MacIntosh
Tanya MacIntosh writes speculative fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry. She has lived in Toronto, Quebec City, Jerusalem, and Calgary, which is now home. Gigi, her rescue dog, generously shares the house with her.