I too, kept a library--
my father left it to my keep.
Everything you'd want to know
was housed in it, shelved deep.
The scrolls were kept better than bones
in jars with herbs that do such things.
Yea, I had a library
and it housed the works of kings.
I speak of Alexandria
where even paupers peered the scrolls.
There has not been another since
that rivaled such papyrus, fold.
The people hated me for this--
a woman's mathematics?
Worshipping the pagan gods--
such assumptions deemed me odd.
And so they tore me limb from limb
because I worshipped none but whim.
Someday, again, I shall return
and slant my rhymes and free the verse!
Until then I subject my curse
(just when it can't get any worse)
someone sparks an infamous
fire that destroys the words.
Free the Grinch! I rally, cry!
And be damned this flesh of mine
frying as I'm burned alive
until the very end of time
finds the center of the clock.