The Library Of Alexandria 2.0
(Now With More Jellyfish)
written by: Gloria Ogo
The shelves are made of bleached coral
each book
pulsing with someone else’s memory.
(You’ll know forgotten section
by how the pages dissolve
as you touch them,
leaving only equations
about how many degrees
separate mercy from missiles.)
The librarians wear
Oil-slick hazmat suits
Melted glacier earrings
The exact shade of blue
from 1950s nuclear test films
We check out
Drowned city blueprints
(useful for building sandcastles
that withstand time)
The complete corporate minutes
from every oil board meeting
(bound in seal skin)
A first edition of How to Breathe Water
with marginalia in Exxon lobbyist handwriting
The overdue fines are paid in
Years off your grandchildren’s lives
The coordinates of fresh water springs
That moment when you realize
your childhood home
is now a nautical chart notation
The jellyfish read aloud
From
Twitter threads
preserved in formaldehyde
The last text messages
from Paradise, California
Your great-granddaughter’s diary
entry titled “Why Didn’t They—”
before the ink runs
(Special collections includes:
A perfect cube of Arctic ice
that screams when touched
and the complete works
of every scientist
who was right.)
At closing time,
the building sighs
and becomes water again.
We float on our backs,
watching the stars
through a lens of
Microplastics
Diesel fumes
The lingering afterimage
of shorelines that refused to drown
What remains:
a sky rewritten in oil,
the shimmer of plastic pretending to be tide.
- The Library Of Alexandria 2.0 - January 1, 2026
- The Bridge That Chews Its Own Cables - August 23, 2025
- The Road That Drinks Our Shadows - May 14, 2025
