Helena Mesa

A Question of Symbolism

Does language cry out,
its voice an island shrinking                                     
as the plane pulls away?

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says
over the phone.

Syllables tamped by engine whirs,
the words indecipherable?

Onions falter, grease snaps.
“Listen—

Does each accent sound of knots
pulled taut, or does language
ribbon a waist, hold who she was?

A bird is still a bird,
whatever you call it.”

What knee does one kneel and
pray upon? What does one say?
What ritual soothes the ear
mourning what’s lost?

The knife thuds the cutting board,
a final word—

I stutter, words

                                                         a comfort

I cannot find,

                                                         she cannot offer.

Helena Mesa is the author of Where Land Is Indistinguishable from Sea (forthcoming from Terrapin Press) and Horse Dance Underwater, and is an editor for Mentor & Muse: Essays from Poets to Poets. She lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan.