Book Cull

The first time I decided to cull my books
We were renting that big wooden house in Tawa
With a garage that slid down the hill
I started with such gusto – began to stack 300 books
In thematic piles in the middle of the lounge floor
But I tired of the task by nightfall

So the stacks sat there for weeks, day by day upended
Until despairing at the lack of floor space and calm
I formed a digger with my outstretched arms
Pushed the no-longer-thematic-stacks-but-book-clusterfuck
To the corner of the lounge. For two months
The book pile reproached me and caught my breath

Until a friend, in absolute awe of the pile and high on meth
Got to work and reshelved every book within the hour
I looked at her like she was the messiah
I’ve attempted three more book culls since then
This will be the fifth, another reach for the sublime
Or too many unfinished books culls for one lifetime

It’s not hard to rid myself of books once I start
It gets addictive. The impulse that drove me to hoard books
Gives way to a soft spot for empty shelves
This time I’ll start with the stuff around the books
Five pens, a draft of my friend’s play about aliens
The little music box that plays “The Sound of Silence”

Which reminds me of the sleepout at the back of my mother’s house
That used to be her craft room before she got sicker
That used to be a storage room
That used to be configured differently before the fire
That used to be someone else’s garage
That used to be wetlands

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Kathryn Reeves is a poet and writer based in Ōtautahi Christchurch. She has been published in Landfall and has recently completed creative writing courses through the Hagley Writers’ Institute and Massey University. She is also a plain language expert and a judge in this year’s New Zealand Plain English Awards.
Twitter: @kathrynana16