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Analecta 2014 

First Place Prize Poetry 
Joe Eggleston 

Scandalizing the Librarians 

Is what I would call it, but I've known too many 

to believe they'd be shocked at finding us in delicto, 

here, among the stacks. They pornographize the written word, 
have laid them, as it were, lifelong: who knows the depths or heights 

book-lust might have taken them, alone or together, some nights 

or bright noontimes among the shelves, orgy of orgies 

of pages breaking woven above the eye. 

So no, lover, they'll tell us to stop 

or maybe leave, or they'll call the campus cops, 
but they know more than anyone what's driving us 

today - these lengths of passion 
and literary discourse. I should have known reading Proust in the patch 

of sunlight to you out loud would bring us to canoodling. He's so flat 

until you hear him. Feed me chocolates 

and grapes from your own lips, then, and tell me again 

why you think skirts are the best invention. We're getting caught, 

there's no avoiding it, but we'll make it to the door 

no problem; tell me how you 
like the view, tell me how you 

like me, 
like me to press you 
against the cold window glass and watch the snow 

blow across the ruined maple standing guard 

above the red bridge, its rough bark half gone, 

and weathered white ivory peeking from beneath. 

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