“We were so poor…”

“We were so poor…”

We were so poor I had to take the place of the bait in the mousetrap. All alone in the cellar, I could hear them pacing upstairs, tossing and turning in their beds. “These are dark and evil days,” the mouse told me as he nibbled my ear. Years passed. My mother wore a cat-fur collar which she stroked until its sparks lit up the cellar.

--Charles Simic, from the world doesn't end (1989)

“The Hundred-year-old china doll’s head…”

“The Hundred-year-old china doll’s head…”

The hundred-year-old china doll’s head the sea washes up on its gray beach. One would like to know the story. One would like to make it up, make up many stories. It’s been so long in the sea, the eyes and nose have been erased, its faint smile is even fainter. With the night coming, one would like to see oneself walking the empty beach and bending down to it.

--Charles Simic, from the world doesn't end (1989)

“A much dwindled, starker annotator…”

“A much dwindled, starker annotator…”

A much dwindled, starker annotator sitting in a child’s prison for butterflies. There’s Phoebus. There’s Painted Lady, Dog Face, White Admiral, Zebra, Mourning Cloak, Question Mark, Little Wood Satyr. Their colors are very pretty.
Who told the little kid about sticking pins into us?

--Charles Simic, from the world doesn't end (1989)