Treacherous as trap door spiders, <br />they ambush children's innocence. <br />"Why is there g h in light? It isn't fair!" <br />Buddha declared the world illusory <br />as the p sound in psyche. Sartre <br />said the same of God from France, <br />Olympus of silent letters, n'est -ce pas? <br /> <br />Polite conceals an e in the same way <br />"How are you?" hides "I don't care." <br />Physics asserts the desk I lean on, <br />the brush that fluffs my hair, <br />are only dots that punctuate a nullity <br />complete as the g sound in gnome, <br />the c e in Worcestershire. <br /> <br />Passions lurk under the saint's bed, <br />mute as the end of love. <br />They glide toward us, yellow eyes <br />gleaming, hushed as the finality <br />of hate, malice, snake. <br />As easily predict the h in lichen, <br />choral, Lichtenstein, <br /> <br />as laws against throttling rats, <br />making U-turns on empty streets. <br />Such nonsense must be memorized. <br />"Imagine dropkicking a spud," <br />Dad said. "If e breaks off <br />your toe, it spoils your potato." <br />Like compass needles <br /> <br />pointing north, silent letters <br />show the power of hidden things. <br />Voiced by our ancestors, <br />but heard no more, they nudge <br />our thoughts toward death, <br />infinity, our senses' inability <br />to see the earth as round, <br /> <br />circling the sun in a universe <br />implacable as "Might Makes Right," <br />ineffable as tomorrow's second r, <br />incomprehensible as imbroglio's g, <br />the e that finishes inscrutable, <br />imponderable, immense, <br />the terrifying k in "I don't know."<br /><br />Charles Harper Webb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/silent-letters/
