Poem of the Week: "In the Library," by Charles Simic

I loooooove libraries. I've worked in some kind of library every year of my life since I was sixteen. They are, to me, one of the most important institutions in our country. In honor of my library love, here's a nice little Charles Simic poem about these wonderful places and the dedicated people you sometimes find working at them. Enjoy!


In the Library, by Charles Simic

for Octavio

There's a book called
A Dictionary of Angels.
No one had 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.