Sunday, August 18, 2013

Concerto for two trumpets in C

While Vivaldi played,
we said unflattering things about my ex-girlfriend from earlier that year.
There are kinder creatures living under rocks,
so if we talked her down
she deserved it and a ticket out of town.

"Did she make you come?" you wanted to know,
ever the ethereal philospher,
like Vivaldi, priest and composer--
and I told you no, no she did not.

Vivaldi was born in Venice,
borne by water and the Divine spark,
but you, 
you are as Turkish as a crescent moon and star.
The English tucked their tails and fled Gallipoli
because they saw you foretold.

When I talk this way, you roll your eyes.
You say,
"Not everyone thinks I'm as wonderful as you do, Shay."
Fools. I can't account for them,
and anyway,
you look so smug even as you deny.

I am as slow as the four seasons,
inhabited by movements and tempos beyond even my own reach.
There are rigged carnival games easier to solve than I am,
and besides,
I have always been more fascinated by the sorceress's candles
than by common fireworks.

You level a look at me, dark-eyed and not bothered
with Christian ceremony or habitual reserve.
"Come here," you say, not harshly, not sweetly.
"Now."
Venice is known for festivals and lights, as well as its canals--
sometimes a new arrival takes the old city as a challenge,
taking her time,
finding her own way,
walking on water as Vivaldi plays.
_______

for Marian's challenge at Real Toads.

 




 

10 comments:

Marian said...

aww, love this snapshot, Shay. best, cleverest, and (seemingly) most truthy line = "I am as slow as the four seasons." love that.

Kerry O'Connor said...

You manage to take real experiences (conversations even)and turn them into legend by waving your magical realism wand over the people and places.

Here's the line I really loved:
The English tucked their tails and fled Gallipoli
because they saw you foretold.

Helen said...

I've had an on-going love affair with Vivaldi's music for many years.

{ Slow as the four seasons, come here .. now } .. hopelessly in love with this poem.

hedgewitch said...

Ah the magical Other, full of everything Divine we actually contain ourselves...she is always dancing through your work, and leaving her mark on your forehead, and yet, to my mind, all the real magic comes from the strumpet with the ink pen. But it's all about the dance, and the music, and this one is full of the beauty of both.

Mama Zen said...

That swing from the second stanza to the third is so impossible and implausible that only you could have made it. I love this one.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I especially love the preference for sorceress's candles over fireworks. Yup. More lasting. Loved this. Sigh.

Sioux said...

Shay, damn you, you are able to take the mundane and transform it into something ethereal.

I especially loved the last three lines.

HermanTurnip said...

If only we all had your ability to look inwards at ourselves and eek out the tender notes of our personal struggles, needs, and accomplishments. Well done!

TALON said...

"There are kinder creatures living under rocks," -- classic Shay and I loved every syllable!

Daryl said...

i only discovered Vivaldi a few years ago ... reading this i can here him clearly