PICKINGS

Poetry from NHI publications

THE PERUVIAN GODDESS
when he replays the cassette and hears his own voice he winces feeling the blood rush to his temple slightly high-pitched a bit tremulous with a touch of hysteria it's not what others would think rather the way he perceives himself it's not either that he wishes he were someone else no, it is at once simple and terribly ambitious like the swish of grass blades in a simmering July afternoon where he can't tell whether it is a sound at all or the foreshadowing of danger the senses are so exacerbated and suddenly, to his delight he re-enacts a scene that took place decades ago bending over his parent's gramophone a little boy sits mesmerised the voice coming out of the scratched 78rpm record is that of Yma Sumac if there is a creator then she must be a goddess with her notes scaling the rainbow from the whispers of genesis to the explosions of the heart he can't put a face to this voice in spite of the cover photograph even consciously blurs its features the jungle spills out of those grooves drawing him into its magic and the scratch seems to be that which binds him to the miracle so frail and yet so timeless
ALBERT RUSSO

THE PERUVIAN GODDESS

when he replays the cassette
and hears his own voice
he winces
feeling the blood rush to his temple
slightly high-pitched
a bit tremulous
with a touch of hysteria
it's not what others would think
rather the way he perceives himself
it's not either that he wishes
he were someone else
no, it is at once simple
and terribly ambitious
like the swish of grass blades
in a simmering July afternoon
where he can't tell whether
it is a sound at all
or the foreshadowing of danger
the senses are so exacerbated
and suddenly, to his delight
he re-enacts a scene
that took place decades ago
bending over his parent's gramophone
a little boy sits mesmerised
the voice coming out
of the scratched 78rpm record
is that of Yma Sumac
if there is a creator
then she must be a goddess
with her notes scaling the rainbow
from the whispers of genesis
to the explosions of the heart
he can't put a face to this voice
in spite of the cover photograph
even consciously blurs its features
the jungle spills out of those grooves
drawing him into its magic
and the scratch seems to be
that which binds him to the miracle
so frail and yet so timeless

ALBERT RUSSO

from
Painting the Tower of Babel
ISBN 0 903610 18 3

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This page last updated: 9th March 2006.