In the Library

(Charles Simic, poet laureate, 2007-2008)

IN THE LIBRARY

There’s a book called
“A Dictionary of Angels.”
No one has opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered

The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.

Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.

She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.

~ Charles Simic, born 1938 in Yugoslavia, American poet, essayist, and translator

The Partial Explanation

(Late Afternoon, New York, Winter by Childe
Hassam, 1859-1935, American painter)

The source of the word eavesdrop is the Old English yfesdrype, from eave (brink or brim) and drip. Thus, to eavesdrop is to stand on the ground under the eaves or at walls or windows to listen to what is going on inside.

THE PARTIAL EXPLANATION

Seems like a long time
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.

Seems like it has grown darker
Since I last heard the kitchen door
Behind my back
Since I last noticed
Anyone pass on the street.

A glass of ice-water
Keeps me company
At this table I chose myself
Upon entering.

And a longing,
Incredible longing
To eavesdrop
On the conversation
Of cooks.

~ Charles Simic, born 1938 in Yugoslavia, American poet and translator