Commonly Challenged

Out from my uplifted hand,
I release my contraband of
blacklisted novels.

“This is no time to be making new enemies,”
Voltaire said, reclining in his deathbed,
asked by a priest to renounce Lucifer.
Here, I have to concur.

My books are picked up, one by one. The
librarian mutters thanks without conviction.
Tonight, the pages burn in my neighbors’
lanterns. I will not rise in the morning.

I will be asleep, under the darkness
of my sheets, years after my pages
were burning.

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