HANNAH HO ’19
ELEGIA: FUGUE PER CINQUE VOCI
In the dusky light
Hints of gold glint in your eyelashes-
I am drawn to them as a moth to flame.
Breath whispers on the surface of my skin.
Fingers brush feathery patterns on my
shoulder blade and the soft
curve where hip meets thigh.
You heard the whisper
mist and smiled
at its soft melody,
You traced the path of
the moon across the
night, brimming with glow,
each kiss tasting of
I stare unseeing at the hazy
glints of light reflected
on the surface of my tea,
and imagine for a
that they are fireflies drifting
through a summer night.
IV. Più mosso
The bone-white birches stretch
their limbs in the bitter breeze –
in the ancient swollen hills,
veins of the earth—
where the sky bleeds into the horizon.
in the rain
the broken curve of your back
a graceless threnody
And I, as sad as a willow tree without any leaves
Cry until the ivory cracks under your fingers.
Blood and salt swirl amid tautened strings,
the felt hammers, coating, burning,
black gloss melting in the heat.
Resin dripping onto bare toes
still working the pedals in somnolent patterns:
Strings make a new sound as they snap,
a sort of desperate twang,
a dying gasp.
You play even when the keys are gone,
Your arms splashed with grey milk.
You play until there is nothing left,
resin hardened into a shell, shattered.
HANNAH HO ’19