Hedgerows in Paris, 1995 Mario Savioni

To Loisa Fenichell

http://www.loisafenichell.com/

Loisa,

As your waiter, orange dress, brunette, me in a blue shirt, I guess with Mr. P.

I listened to your poem on YouTube. Not knowing if you could fabricate the sky.

Something about a child’s arm, I could not hear.

But, I heard that a boy learned to walk with his grandfather,

That all people are not lost,

Or that water spreads,

And citizens celebrate,

And yes, we would,

Knowing you are now in California.

Protecting your infant,

While watching flocks

Moving to Nebraska.

You find your best mediation

While the tea steeps

Consumed by myth

Trusting what you see

Where fields in photographs

Proved their existence.

As you can see, I only went through it once. Your voice is confined, cautious, and timid, but adds to the overall impression, which is that you are to be taken seriously. You hide a lot under your hands. The words are spacious, almost disconnected, expansive, likely to suggest ambiguity.