The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra Performs Prokofiev's Romeo & Juliet

Abstract

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra Performs Prokofiev's Romeo & Juliet Issam Zineh (bio) Was it forbidding as much as it was foreboding?For those in the symphony hall tonight, what feltlike contemplation actually surrender? It began disharmoniously, and then, some of uscould see it coming on—that love could be a kindof abdication of responsibility. Harlem Phillips was 7 months old when she waspronounced dead on Christmas day. When she was brought in,we were told she fell off the couch. Autopsy showed her body showed signs of being shaken.At last check, there were 217 kids killed since we startedcounting. We have a database and our deaths are color-coded. □ shooting (crimson), □ stabbing (raven), □ blunt force (parakeet), □ asphyxiation (iris), □ other (lemon), □ unknown (white) There's one part where Romeo stabs Tybalt, where the tympanidrums are just beyond. We weren't sure whether to clap at the end.The percussionists would eventually get a standing ovation. Blunt force seems inadequate. On the other hand, bleedinginto the eyeballs, fractured baby arms and baby legs, damagedtissues that connect us, support us, a bloody brain, is a mouthful. Prokofiev was essentially an only child—his parents having losttwo daughters earlier. His mother was a serious amateurpianist, practiced hours every day. He wrote his first opera at 9 for his family to perform. What a sight that must have been.Come closer. Sit on the couch.The conductor, in her set up, talked about the many beautiful things [End Page 120] yet to be written in C major. That all Prokofiev ever wanted wasunconditional acceptance. That he needed to be seen. That he died onthe same day as Stalin, and so, not a single flower could be found for his funeral. What about the others,the unknowns? Imagine some death not knowable in knowable terms.On closer look, here, one of three children, drowned by their father in an area hotel room. Knowable. Did he do it simultaneouslyor did he take turns? Knowable. She talked about how C majoris like home for human beings. On the drive back we pass a billboard that reads "If you lived here, you'd be homeby now." The whole rest of the way, looking back, wonderingwhether we were the only ones who saw poison as a kind of privilege. [End Page 121] Issam Zineh Issam Zineh is the author of Unceded Land (forthcoming, Trio House Press), which was a finalist for the Trio Award, and the chapbook The Moment of Greatest Alienation (Ethel, 2021). His poems most recent poems appear or are forthcoming in AGNI, Tahoma Literary Review, Tinderbox, and elsewhere. Find him at issamzineh.com or on Twitter @izineh. Footnotes Poem Note: This poem hopes to memorialize Harlem Phillips who died from "shaken baby syndrome"/blunt force trauma (2019) and Anthony (6 years old), Austin (4 years old), and Athena Castillo (2 years old), who were drowned by their father in a Baltimore hotel room. Baltimore homicide statistics are at https://homicides.news.baltimoresun.com. Copyright © 2021 Pleiades and Pleiades Press