Seven sets of seven doors guard
the emporium's eccentricities:
doors of silk, silver, oak,
Dutch doors, pocket doors,
doors huge or diminutive,
each catering to clientele
of a particular persuasion.
Gorgons, ogres, djinn, giants,
griffins, gremlins, goblins, ghosts--
the seven times seven beings
welcomed to their own departments.
Selkies swim through a watergate
to browse dampproof editions
of police procedurals.
Dragons drop to an aerial entrance
that opens on marbled hallways
offering bronze hardcovers
inset with ruby and garnet,
pages crafted of gold sheet,
the books showier than the outfits
in their favorite Regency romances.
Seven sets of seven doors divide
demon from dwarf, elf from yaksha,
but there are always a defiant few,
dearest to the proprietor's heart,
who wander out of their section:
a centaur seeking fairy tales,
a troll tiptoeing among unicorns.
