Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A Student of Letters

I stare at the letters
I still haven't said,
though Rome has unlocked
their exotic sounds.
My palate could test them,
swirl the mixture of flavors
around on my tongue.
I could finger their rhythms,
like sight-reading a solo
for clarinet.
On my own,
I could sound their phonetics
like a student in grade school
learning to read.
Teacher,
you still haven't taught me
your name.

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