Kevin's Watch

“Black cat” in the days of my youth
Was an onomatopoeia –
The sound of a stinging hand.
Shattered plastic, the transparent dome
Of a quarter’s purchase,
My substitute for a blast shield.
And so I learned the words that hurt
But only so much
I took tape to insect, lit the fuse,
Tossed grasshopper bomb under a bucket,
And examined the pattern.
Ichor and chitin, sulfur stains and char –
Such meaninglessness revolted me.
Thank god for illiteracy.

trying to reconcile

"Thank god for illiteracy."

with the great poem that precedes it..

for me that one line doesn't work - i read it aloud excluding and i liked it much better.