Alex Francavilla - Week 13 - I Remember The Way You Say My Name
CW: violence
I remember the way you say my name.
It’s casual, friendly, and amiable
The words gurgle from your mouth like a fountain
And we bask in them together like hummingbirds
Or perhaps we are riffle beetles under a rock
With the water stream sheltering us in our own familiarity.
I remember the way you say my name.
A barely audible whisper, accompanied
By the lightest of taps to ask me a question
“How’d you solve #4?”
“Why’d you integrate here?”
“D’you have a partner yet?”
“Are there more wheels or doors?” “Wheels,” I answer.
I will never tell a soul, but
I always enjoy moments like that.
I remember the way you say my name.
Loud and boisterous, perhaps multiple times
Sing-songy, it is an aria in its loosest definition
Calling my attention to an insect
Or telling me a joke, its contents escaping between each stifled giggle
I entertain the concept of your jest, hoping to find it funny
Or to laugh convincingly enough.
I remember the way you say my name.
Or rather, the way you type my name
Words in #spam in a small Discord server
Look weirder than they sound
From a fifteen character name and a profile picture
“Alex” sounds sharp and almost too direct
And although I am quite cautious
You have summoned me and I shall respond.
I remember the way you say my name.
You’re not happy
I don’t know why yet, or maybe I do
All I know is that you’re yelling at me
Or sighing in exasperation
Either way, intending or not,
You’ve yanked the nametag off my collar and
Slashed me across the face with it
You don’t see the scar it leaves behind.
I remember the way you say my name.
Because you left the scar.
It was a weapon in your hands, and thus
That is what I see it as
Soon the scar will open
And leech its vitriol into the rest of your dialogue
I no longer want to hear anymore.
I remember the way you say my name.
And the way others say my name
This time, it truly is a memory
All of my names are not being voiced or typed or thrown at me
They orbit in oblong circles in my skull
Echoing on the inside of my eardrums
I silently scream
I rip and tear at my hair, desperate to make it stop
But I am cursed to remember
That I am Alex
No matter what I do, where I exist, who I meet, who I am,
I am Alex to you.
Is that a good thing?
I remember the way you say my name.
It’s quiet again, hushed and worried
Maybe you’re at my bedside, I feel immensely tired
I might have fallen asleep if you hadn’t said something
“It’s okay, you’re okay” it breathes
The voice belongs to no one in particular
But it belongs to everyone
I turn my head to face the wall.
Alex, wow. I’d like to start and say that I appreciate the fact you did poetry for your blog this week. I feel like poetry is extremely underrated and is an extremely fun way to express yourself. Plus, one can be extremely figurative and break out of barriers that most writing styles constrain.
ReplyDeleteI, too, sort of interpreted this as a love poem, although not necessarily directed towards anyone. I thought it read extremely delicately, and your poem described little moments extremely well—the second and third stanzas especially. I think intimate moments with friends are extremely underrated and under-your-breath conversations while an instructor is talking are some of the best parts of being in a classroom. I specifically think about my classes where teachers are relatively more strict—particularly math. Holding in my laugh through eye-contact as my friends make absolutely ridiculous faces sparks an emotion I don’t think I experience anywhere besides school. Wait lowkey I feel like I have more to say about this. Like you know when your face is buried in your arms and every word the people around you say is like a tripwire because your current state is such that everything and anything is hilarious. Idk if this made any sense.
I agree with your answer of wheels. I think the debate isn’t really a debate, but maybe I’m not thinking deep enough.
Your part of Discord reminds me of the quarantine days. I don’t really use the app as much as before, but I often think about the late nights with the boys when we stayed in call playing videogames or movies, just to do the same thing the next day. Good times for sure.
I felt your fifth and sixth stanza were incredibly powerful. I interpreted it as growth of some sort, as per the “it truly is a memory” line; I really liked that one.
Overall, I really, really enjoyed reading your blog. Thank you for sharing! And thank you for doing a poem.
I really enjoyed reading your poem because it reminded me of a lot of different things.
ReplyDeleteIn the first few stanzas I interpreted your writing as a love poem and it took me back to this time in my life where I would spend hours waiting for this one person to text me back. Looking back I’m so confused as to why I spent so much time on one person’s attention but your poem encapsulated that serotonin boost that we get when someone we care for calls our name.
Your second to last stanza where you say “No matter what I do, where I exist, who I meet, who I am, / I am Alex to you,” has resonated with me. Growing up I have been many names to many different people, these names have followed me throughout my life. They serve as a reminder of all the connections I have made with people that have made such an impact on my life. Names hold so much history, meaning, and emotion; it gets difficult when you start to lose that connection.
I’m so glad you have been able to find peace amongst different struggles you have experienced as I too relate to them on some many different levels. I’m happy you were comfortable sharing this week and I enjoyed your poem.
Alex, there’s honestly so much I think I could say about your poem, I found myself continuously coming back to it after I initially first read it because I felt deeply inspired (and seen in some ways too). I had prepared myself for a lot when I saw your warning for violence, but your first stanza honestly did a great job at making me forget about that warning at all---this was a good thing for me, I was caught off guard by the tonal shift in a good way. Every stanza starting with the same line gave your poem this cyclical nature to it that initially was very endearing but by the end of it I was audibly gasping. The way that you developed your seventh stanza was especially impactful, with the ultimately transformation of the memory of this person saying your name became something hurtful. Overall, I loved this poem so much, please consider writing more, I loved reading this! (And I’m hoping you’re okay now, although I love your creativity I hope you recovered gracefully after that frenzy).
ReplyDelete