Nunc Dimittis, Vespers Opus No. (Vinyl)
In this particular recording,
Vespers Opus No. 37, Nunc Dimittis
by
Weider Atherton Sonia on the record Chants D’Est
it is instrumental only, mostly solo cello and if you just
listen
you can hear the cellist sigh with each crescendo
I heard this and thought of the trembling pause between lovers.
A woman’s wanting nervous sigh, a look that catches, and is
remembered, in the eye.
Of course I then thought I – I!
of all
Vespers officiant twice confirmed so Black Anglican Prayer Book
Episcopal who knows by-rote the
blah blah blah
Anglican-black–wrapped cassock cincture-bound, I served, led
and read the prayers, mouthing the words with such authority,
“Please turn your page to the
Black Anglican Prayer Book,
page 68.”
The “Nunc Dim” we called it.
On the plus side, there was the Phos Hilaron and the Magnificat.
It’s odd how you note such things with each
turn of the bow. Such gentle pressure and such
things you see.
I forgot how evocative.
This is the point:
This milk-crate stuffed record cover-scuffed vinyl, I must have
bought it one day for some reason
that
I cannot now remember
perhaps somehow knowing that should anyone find this they may
feel moved to hear it and then by proxy they would hear what I hear.
I could then perhaps run the service. It could or could not be a
litany. One could or could not believe. It is or is not holy.
One does or does not have faith. Perhaps I loved it.
Wow!
I have to change direction.
Yes, I’ve a deep-seated fear of strong-emotion,
but godI want to dive in.
As I walked the other day, I promised myself that
I would not be a phony, (not even a real-phony).
No. I would, when appropriate, express my emotions in the appro-
priate fashion.
This was very grown-up of me (I thought).
After doing this I,
Pretended to be happy for someone else’s benefit.
I privately wept.
I dropped my handbag at the post-office, which sent all of the contents spilling out.
I tried not to think about the hard things, which only made
them harder which made tears come flooding and then I,
wept
I washed my face. I looked in the mirror, I adjusted my bun.
I put on lipstick.I went for a drive and listened to Bob Dylan's “Never Say Goodbye” at top volume.
I worked for six hours.
I began a letter to you but I left it unfinished because I do not yet know what else to say.
forthcoming in the book (for goodness' sake) new poems by sadi ranson-polizzotti
twilight times books and alyscamps press, united states / france.
for more information, please use the contact link on this site
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