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MAYBE GABRIEL FAURÉ TURNS IN HIS GRAVE AND I’M DRINKING HIS FAVOURITE CHAMPAGNE

MAYBE GABRIEL FAURÉ TURNS IN HIS GRAVE AND I’M DRINKING HIS FAVOURITE CHAMPAGNE

Writer-in-Residence, Kiara Lindsay shares her creative response to experiencing Maps to the Stars featuring the music of composer Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924). 

part i 
HOW THE TEENAGER EXPERIENCES ALL SHE HASN’T

élégie my first true love 
I fall into each note clumsy from overwhelm 
and feel it all like any teenaged girl 

I decide I want to make emotion look easy 
fool my hands steady 
though from the chest they 
agitate with anticipation 

I make five phrases and end up on the river 
admiring smooth stones under viridian water 
relish any chance I get to play 
an octave or more below middle C 

I’m told it’s about the death of his wife 
so hypothetical or not 
I do it all thinking of her 

I truly believe that I know what it’s like 
to have a dead wife too 
never having loved before 
not realising I might like a wife one day 

I feel her death in the 
devastating repetition 
imagine myself as a middle-aged fauré 
contemplating a memory by the office window 
glassy-eyed but reticent 

my father asks me what I feel when I play 
what I feel when I hear it 
I look away abashed and say 
of course I feel nothing 

I’m embarrassed by the extent of my emotion 
shove people out of the way of the sound 
tell them to pretend 
they heard nothing

part ii 
THERE WAS NOTHING IN BETWEEN THEN AND NOW SO I ONLY SEE IT FOR WHAT IT COULD HAVE BEEN 

I remember why I loved him 
in the back of the salon 
I let the electric blue light fall on my face 
and return to teenaged-self 

at the top of the andante 
the piano rolls out in mechanical chords 
and the cello soars on top like a proud albatross 
my stomach flips in the moment the first bar mirrors 
while it fakes the beginning of my first love élégie 

I sink into a disappointment 
padded by sound and soft rosehip light 
at least the let-down is gentle and self-induced 
so I get over it quickly 
find something new to focus on 

the finale ends in allegro vivo 
the white-haired man in front of me erupts in applause 
he puts his body into it 
commits to it like a marriage 

I’m reminded of a scene I’ve watched on repeat 
replace the white-haired man with my grandfather 
I never saw him so happy as he was in 
a myriad matching moments 
the suspense of the finish line 
breaking his heart or at least 
his nervous system 

when I see the man wrapped in his own elation 
I think how far I could come from the self 
who’d roll her eyes or misapprehend 
and pin it all on the resentment 
she developed for catholicism 

here in the back of the salon 
I mourn concealed 
until interrupted by the cellist 
announcing fauré’s favourite drink (champagne) 

he serves it to us in the foyer 
I drink gingerly while I think 
how strange it might’ve been 
to be famous for putting people 
in their memories

Kiara Lindsay

More about Kiara Lindsay:

Kiara Lindsay is a poet with a background in classical cello. She is interested in verse narrative and art criticism as kindling for further art-making.

She completed her Honours in Creative Writing at the University of Melbourne in 2017. Alongside Bridget Gilmartin, she co-edits Inhabit Journal and runs a poetry reading series called ‘Evening Swim’. 

In 2018, Kiara was the recipient of the H.B Higgins Poetry Scholarship. You can find her work in Voiceworks, Lor and Marrickville Pause.

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