Charles Simic's Voice - Poem by Scott Minar
I've studied it,
Looked inside its vowels,
Examined consonants as if they were pyramids,
Like they held a secret
We can only see with x-rays.
But in the end, all I have is my little catechism
Given to me by a blind priest
And poet Jacques Prevert—
Here's heaven's little light
In a last cave of Hell,
Like someone's moist, violinist's finger
Rubbing the dry rim of a glass.
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