The Book Thief and His Librarian Candlestick By Edis Rune

The Book Thief and His Librarian Candlestick

With every step
The book thief
Takes, his sleeves
swing from side to
side like a saw
Moving through water.

The way he held the
Candlestick was like a
Cup of water—he did not
Want to spill a single drop.
The darkness could not
Touch the fire.

The candlelight’s interests
Grow when in close contact
With the library’s books.
The pathway is clear with
The Victorian literature

To the industrial revolution,
The books felt warm and
Began to melt like iron,
As the thief reaches for one.
The book thief’s candlestick
Fumbled, fell on his sleeves,

Burning him alive.
The morning after the librarian
Reclaimed his candlestick,
White, and charred black with
Ash and flesh.
The books untouched with a new

Fingerprint aromatic scent.

By Edis Rune


Currently living in New York, Edis Rune was born in Kosovo and is of Montenegrin descent. He is a poet, novelist, short-story writer, and more.

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