Ode to the Reading Room

Great vestibule of self-destruction;
Under whose watch was this madcap crucible created?
Wireless cordless electric power doom
I'd cry but that seems so dated
so lacking in precedent
so void of intent


I place my books in a semi-circle around me
Like some Druid circle of old
And my lipstick crusts on Diet Coke bottles
While the moan of Cardozo pulses, "And we hold..."

And I'm accepting 20 years of debt for this wooden chair?
Scalia, Ginsburg, Posner, Holmes, oh shit!
I used to be an actress, a volunteer, a woman
And now I am fingers and a keyboard and a contested circuit split...

At least Elizabeth is on the other side of the table,
eyes crossing, my comrade in arms, highlighters piled.
And Sarah is sleeping somewhere with visions of amendments
bruising her sexpot style

Katherine stares out her window and dreams of a boy
and assures us of high hopes, sometimes makes us tea
and Stephanie curses and calls me Miss W and reminds me
of a stronger woman I used to be

My girls, my fighters of fights I couldn't fight on my own,
Sit at this table and question it all, too.
So at least I'm not alone with my redbound books,
not alone in this home-hell-res-ipsa-loquitur Room.

Dedicated, quite obviously, to Miss P, Miss N, Miss V, and Miss M, with much love on this gloomy day.