The Library

I think about how terrible it must

feel to be called “the creature.”

A creature, I think,

is the golem.

So for the rest of lunch

I go to the library.

 

 

If there really is magic clay

in that jar, maybe

I could scrape enough out

to bring a golem to life.

Then it could

go to the hospital

and rescue my mom.

I try to imagine

the golem, its strong, gloopy arms

ripping off the hospital doors,

scooping her up,

and carrying her home.

Would it have a human face?

 

 

The fountain near the library door

spits water out of a lion’s mouth.

“The Lion of Wisdom,”

Mrs. McClellan calls it.

 

 

The library’s one big room,

shelves stacked

ceiling to floor;

the smell of old books

fills the air all around.

 

 

Mrs. McClellan is at her big round desk.

She smiles at me.

Behind her are black-and-white photos

of gold rush camps, old San Francisco,

the Angel Island Immigration Station before it burned down,

with a plaque beneath it,

ELLIS ISLAND OF THE WEST.

Under the photos are books on all the places.

When I brought one home once

to show my grandfather,

he didn’t want to see it—

didn’t want to talk about it.

No one from the Calypso likes to talk about Angel Island.

 

 

I point to the stack of World Book Encyclopedias.

Yes? She runs her finger along the bindings,

stops at G when I nod,

hands me the book. At the table,

I pull out the notebook from my bag,

a pencil, a squishy pink eraser,

then I flip through the pages.

Goalie, gold, golem.

 

 

Slowly I take in the pictures.

Dark, lidless eyes set deep into a long skull,

bald, long-necked with painted clay feet.

In one picture, the golem is rising

through a manhole in a city street,

its mouth wide open in the yellow light.

 

 

I turn the page, and the next is better, like a short man

made of clay, large eyes and legs,

holding a scroll in its thick arms.

 

 

I try to sketch it in my book,

but it looks silly every time,

like a snowman,

or a weird gorilla.

 

 

I go back to Mrs. McClellan

and check out the book.

She sees my notebook,

raises her eyebrows.

Anything else today?

I smile and shake my head.

Say hello to your grandfather.