I knew the books would be damaged but I didn’t turn them away. I can’t remember what I traded for this one, I believe it was some wrist warmers and an ear warmer. I found poems by by Shelley in the Anthology of English, read about the goddess Athena in the first chapter of The Odyssey, and I had to have the copy of All Quiet on the Western Front with the black and white photo, even though I already had two copies.
On another note, I will be posting every day for the next 7 days as part of a personal challenge in January. It’s really to keep my mind off of what’s happening tomorrow. I don’t know how I’ll be able to work knowing that my mom will be on her way to the vet clinic to put down my dog. I think about writing a poem for him, but when I try to get the words down the page becomes a watery blur. I will cover myself with books and type, and hopefully this will break my fall as it does feel like the floor has given way to a black hole. No words can capture my heartbroken face, squeezing my eyes shut, or that all I see is my rage. I don’t want him to go. Don’t take him. Leave him here, please I wish I could hug him one more time.
the pretty poems 
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