Poem: Behind the Binding

The metaphor of man-as-volume and whether or not he's a good read.

Behind the Binding Sorry about the shape this volume’s in,     although it’s held up pretty well     for all the times the pages turned But there doesn’t seem to be a way     to fit everything you see in me     into a book that better fits your hand Maybe a slicker cover, more pleasing to the eye So take it or don’t, I can’t do otherwise     than promise a pretty good read It may have taken far too long to write Cliff Notes can be had for a drink     and it’s more irreverent     than irrelevant I hope And some chapters just aren’t worth the read It’s that way wandering bookstores too, I guess Some novels need to be stuck with     through the early chapters     and others not worth the nights     spent trying to find a plot But I’m the author of my work     and hardly clear on that Even so, some reviewers have been kind There’s a sense of style at the center,     a phrase or two well-turned,     a hopefulness about the thing The cover’s raggedy, a few pages torn Yet still, I’m at my best I hope,     behind the binding

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.