Reading Between the Lines

You can’t judge a book by its cover

but can you judge a woman by her books?

 

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Photo by the author

 

Credit to http://www.stevestillstanding.com for inspiring me with his recent black and white photos of bookshelves.  You can see his pictures at

Upstart Photographer#4. Book Shelves.

They made me look at my books afresh.  My shelves are all full so I have mini piles of books around the house.  This was a random selection.

Picnic at Wuthering Heights

Sundays, dad drives, mum folds
maps, me in the back seat of our black Ford.
We meander from Gargrave to Stump

Cross to Oxenhope Moor. Stone-walled
boundaries streak beyond misted glass. I choke
down nausea, cross fingers and legs.

Squatting in ragged robin roadsides, we search
for traveller’s joy. Weave delicate chains of wild
amid the stench of exhaust. We chew hardboiled

eggs, salamis, gherkins, hard cheese with red rind, wilted
sarnies from Tupperware. Me and Mum sip tepid tea, plastic
brittle-edging my lips. Dad drinks Double Diamond.

The wind blows cold. We seek shelter in damp beneath
dry stone walls ignoring the holes where carefully selected rocks
fail to interlock. I look for Heathcliff in dark crevices, hiding

secret notes, names scribbled on scraps. Northerly
gusts breach the wall until we shiver. Whipped
silent, we scatter our crumbs and leave.

 

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Original Photograph by the author