Summer 2007
Arias
Hands light, movement focused in refined wrists,
slender fingertips, Chopin never let himself rise above
mezzo forte. Suffering
the loss of a woman who bore
a man's name—she who had wrested him from the clumsy hands
of silence—he abandoned himself, after all, to that grim grasp.
Beethoven, touch sure on cacophonic ivory, pitifully
out of tune pianos mouthing the pianissimo
passages, mute
except to his deaf ears. Fidelio the
libretto. Don Giovanni,
the lines he knew by heart, that finale,
a discordant
thunder only his body could feel.
Deserting him at the gates he spurned, Wolfel's
fair weather friends turned back and left his body
to be carried to earth by strangers shivering through
the Viennese drizzle. Touchwood sparked, then extinguished,
or simply consumed by his ignited fingers.
Belle Mia Fiamma. He came that
morning, as she lay,
still sleeping, in their common bed for the first time in weeks.
My beautiful flame, baritone
quavering—a minor
fire on some sacrificial altar—his voice
an absolution and a penance.
Christina Lovin is the author
of What We Burned for Warmth. An award-winning poet, her work is
widely published and anthologized. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing
from New England College. She is the recipient of several artist’s
grants from the Kentucky Arts Council (most notably a 2007 Al Smith
Fellowship) and the Kentucky Foundation for Women. Lovin teaches
college writing courses and presents writing workshops in and around
Central Kentucky.
The idea for the poem, “Arias,” came about through an incident that
occurred between myself and my newly-separated husband. He is
well-versed in classical music, but is not a singer by any means. He
did, however, memorize a complete Mozart aria, “Bella Mia Fiamma,” in
Italian. He came to my bedside one morning, sat on the edge of the bed,
and sang this haunting, lovely aria. I began thinking of Mozart and
other composers whose work was brilliant, although their personal lives
were troubled. Although his gesture did not prevent our divorce, that
particular aria will remain a bittersweet memory.