Day 9 Camp NaNoWriMo: A Library Poem

In addition to writing, I work at a fantastic public library. It’s been on my mind a lot lately, as most library districts (including mine) have been temporarily closed to do our part to fight COVID-19. And thus, a library poem for Day 9 of my month-long poetry challenge!

 

Notes from a Library Employee

a poem by Lauren Hallstrom

 

It’s been 33 days and I think I’m going through library withdrawal.

My hands are itching to straighten shelves

and type out search terms.

I have taken to organizing my pantry in alphabetical order.

Yes, it has gotten so bad that I have given each room in my house

a Dewey Decimal name—

the kitchen is 641.5 and the study is 005

and the backyard can be 919.69 if I want it to be.

 

At work, I could always look forward to

watching kids build towers out of magnets

and strangers bond over Where the Crawdads Sing.

I could collect a thousand little pieces of conversation

about what makes people unique.

Now I am at home, learning how to wait

and hope.

 

I heard that neighbors have been delivering groceries,

and if you look outside, you’ll see

people encouraging each other with sidewalk chalk.

There is a boy who crossed out the sign on his lemonade stand

and turned it into “Free Waves.”

I am discovering a million different ways we still find joy.

 

When it is time to return to our jobs

and welcome back a community

that is still hurting and healing,

let us keep creating our rainbows.

Let us walk through the doors and carry with us

the joy we found in unexpected places.

Let that be, more than anything,

the thing that spreads

on and on and on.

 

 

Day 8 Camp NaNoWriMo: Home Learning – A Poem

Week 2 of NaNoWriMo and my novel is starting to get overlooked, just like it has right around this time in the past couple NaNos. Gotta fix that. Why are poetry words easier to pound out than novel words?

 

Home Learning

a poem by Lauren Hallstrom

 

Yesterday I found my old school globe

in the closet where I left it after graduating high school

and I balanced it in my hands

and noticed how every country is a different color.

It was squeaking on its axle and the equator sticker was peeling off

and I said to myself, “So this is what it is like to hold the world in your hands.”

And perhaps it is, though it would be certainly a little less dusty, and

this one weighs less than I thought it would.

 

If an ant were to find its way onto this spherical toy right now

and traverse the Atlantic Ocean and get stuck on the equator sticker,

it would be like the entire state of Florida uprooting itself and deciding

to go on a cruise.

 

Somewhere around here

is the inflatable beach ball Earth

we bought for homeschool when I was ten,

probably sitting on a shelf,

slightly deflated and embracing its wrinkles.

Maybe if I could hold it,

I would let it slip through my fingers,

just to see if it would bounce.

Day 7 Camp NaNoWriMo: My Excuse – a poem

I’m an introvert, but maybe staying inside is starting to get to me? Or maybe I just have a very strange imagination…

And yes, I did just write a poem about not knowing what to write:

 

My Excuse

a poem by Lauren Hallstrom

 

I cannot write today;

the letters are rearranging themselves into their own made-up language…

In fact, they don’t want to be letters anymore—

they are marks that cannot be contained.

They are lifting up off of the page and

making names for themselves.

They are learning how to be both birds and airplanes,

both candlelight and electricity.

They are learning how to do what no one thought to cheer them on for.

a is doing her hair and standing up straighter.

Ellipsis is pulling herself together.

I cannot claim to know how they do it.

I am growing roots on my sofa

and observing what they create.

This kind of job needs no college degree.