G.F. Handel
Concerto Grosso No.1 In B Flat, Op. 3/1, HWV 312: (II) Largo
Academy Of Ancient Music - Richard Egarr, dir.
I avoid speaking your name in conversation,
throwing it to the air as if it were nothing
more than an assumption of you; it is my last
mode of defence. The last item of clothing
to discard before I realise I’m naked in public.
Because they can hear it in my voice. I know.
Even in that one short syllable that means
everything and nothing; your name is as common
as you are rare. As easy as you are not.
As simple as love should be, but never is.
But when I’m alone, I tie my tongue softly
round the familiar sound, as if pronouncing
with conviction the phonetics of desire
will cause time to pause just long enough
for the earth to hear me naming my loss.
A Hundred Ways To Say Your Name (Tania De Rozario)
This is how I recreate you.
On a bridge near your favorite tree, you become
bones made from sea glass wine bottles and mosaic tiles,
muscle made from dune grass,
skin made from wet leaves after a long winter,
eyelids, the wings of moths.
You become
fingers made from trails of ants that chase me,
toes made from skipping stone peddles,
eyes made from sunflowers,
a mouth and throat, made from a garden hose.
On a bride near your favorite tree, you become
lungs made from paper lanterns,
insides made of paper cranes
veins made from copper wire,
and if I could, I would’ve made your blood from honey
I saved your heart for last,
it becoming a jar of salt water
because every time you told me to find the ocean,
I found it inside of you.
waves crash along the battered, lonely lighthouse
soldier on, soldier on
keep your heart close to the ground
