Dead Words Come Alive

Dead words come alive.
I am the necromancer and
the world is my client.
Leather-bound tomes stand on the screen in digital print.
To be more precise, their names
and their mothers
and their birth years.
The first one is over a millennium old.
The last one is an older TV widow’s delight.
It’s all due Friday when

dead words come alive.
Musky and hidden,
I cut them out of online archives
for the sake of their dusty eyes.
They need to meet some polished ones.
All monochrome, all unsaturated.
Whatever way of “black and white” you wish to say.
My basement babies have lived in the dark too long.
They will see the light when

dead words come alive.
The work I do for others
sits in the background.
The work I do for others
is not an act of volunteer.
I run errands for others to pay for
the race against memory.
I type about fashion trends and
I beg for a following,
not knowing that the dead will follow when their
dead words come alive.