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Review: The Blind Contessa’s New Machine

I found it at the library
My eyes dredging shelves for titles
Or cover art that appealed
It’s not something I would normally pick
With ornate birds and flowers
And a title describing a contessa
Reminded me too much of those ancient tapestries
Dusty and creaking with age
And flowers who smell too sweet
For regular days

But reading surprised
The lyrical prose
read like a poem
Or a fairytale myth
And if I still wrote down beautifully contructed sentences
There would be no words left off my list

Carolina is
going blind
Her typewriter invented
By a secret love

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