Weighty
You could literally kill somebody with this thing,
she said, hoisting the school-assigned anthology
up above her head, and it’s true, what she said.
The Bedford is a great, hardbound brick of a book.
It has that look about it, so hunkered down and
immovable, dense with all those thin pages.
This chunky tome carries its own gravity, so full
of eras and genres and agreed upon literary merit,
as heavy as Hamlet’s heart, as expansive as
Whitman’s leaves of grass, as solidly true as
Maya Angelou, beautiful but too much too.
Can we leave it in our lockers? Can we leave it in your room?
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