Phonaesthetics* I read somewhere that language experts claim when sense is pushed aside, the most ear-pleasing English sounds slide through the words cellar door. Not through the charm of velvet/epiphany/ lithe/purple/serendipity/ cinnamon/soliloquy, but through the scraped-up entry to the stale dark space where my mother scrubbed our clothes and I escaped up-stair storms. Cellar door, celadore, seladore – chant these words out loud and I’m strolling on Assisi cobblestones while Cimabue’s frescoes peel. Or flying to the Vegas strip where gondoliers row arias beneath a painted sky. Or settling down in Vinnie’s Bar with friends and pizza pie. So much for sense when sounds annihilate cinder blocks, concrete floors, dank memories. Three notes – smooth and pure – soar like kisses from my fingertips toward the cobbled sky. Cellar door. Ché bella, cellar door.
Carolyn Martin (First published in Cross Review)
*The study of the euphony and cacophony of words without regard for semantics.
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