The Oldest Child
The night still frightens you.
You know it is interminable
And of vast, unimaginable dimensions.
"That's because His insomnia is permanent,"
You've read some mystic say.
Is it the point of His schoolboy's compass
That pricks your heart?
Somewhere perhaps the lovers lie
Under the dark cypress trees,
Trembling with happiness,
But here there's only your beard of many days
And a night moth shivering
Under your hand pressed against your chest.
Oldest child, Prometheus
Of some cold, cold fire you can't even name
For which you're serving slow time
With that night moth's terror for company.
Charles Simic's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (The Oldest Child by Charles Simic )
- A Call to the MinuteMen, Michael Stevens
- Romeos morning serenade climb, Mark Heathcote
- Screamers, Lev Brekhman
- Bitter lament, Lev Brekhman
- Breakheart solo, Lev Brekhman
- Pygmalion, Lev Brekhman
- Be ready, Lev Brekhman
- The clock, Lev Brekhman
- In clover, Lev Brekhman
- Frictionless existence, Lev Brekhman
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