Saignée
Tung-Hui Hu
They chew on flowers to bring color
back to their faces. Inside the rows of
bougainvillea they eat the purple and the
ochre that climb up the walls, and I want
to say I too know the solitude that divides
blood into bright cell and plasma
that leaves a fluid pale as the eye of a partridge.
I too know no cure for it except to keep eating.
At dawn sunlight stains the city the blush
of onion-skin and the muezzin’s voice
rings out over the rooftops. He is the foghorn
that pierces the heart before morning,
rising from the ocean’s octaves to burn off
the clouds, and yet it terrifies me, to think
early some day you will wake up to see me
standing by the balcony as if I and my legs
and my robe were part of the railing,
you will put your arms around me and ask
why I stand there and I will have no answer.
You do not stir, but I know you have seen
men tumble out of the sky, and with
every ululation your body trembles in sleep.
Though we lie next to each other we are
in different countries, one with water,
one without.
I originally thought saignee a city, but it is a process of bleeding the tanks in the production of rose red wines. I love a new word and the terrain it brings! This new knowlege of the meaning of saignee sent me back to the poem with a different focus, and of course the poem changed, because I had. Read more about saignee in Zinquisition blog-a blog about the wine industry.
This poem reminds me of an unnamed fish at my work,(let's call him Saignee from this point forward, and assign him male status). In the fish tank in the main office where I work is Saignee, a strange vermillion red fish with black accents around the eyes. Saignee is unlike the other fish in the tank. Instead of constantly swimming about or hovering in place, Saignee finds a rock or shell on which to perch, and essentially plays dead, until he feels your eyes upon him, or you place a finger on the glass, and darts away to another location and perches, motionless. Everytime I go to the office I have to check where the Saignee is. Sometimes I stare a little too long, and off he goes. I like the game, but try not to play it too often. I know I intend no harm, but I'm pretty certain Saignee doesn't.
Two years ago,Saignee was transparent. The main secretary said she thinks the fish was clear-colored because in the tank there used to be an aggressive fish that bullied and attacked all the other fish. Perhaps the aggressive fish was territorial, or maybe its aggressiveness was just in its nature, but it didn't matter to the office staff, it had to go. Once the aggressive fish was gone, Saignee transformed from transparent to opaque by slowing starting to pink up until he was a vibrant orange red.
It makes perfect sense Saignee would try to become invisible so he wouldn't be a target. I may be projecting here (so okay, I am), but perhaps becoming transparent is a useful strategy to blend in with the other "fish", so differences, say in temperament, world view, or belief systems aren't so apparent. Or, so that no one really sees you for your imperfect self, like the speaker in the poem, so afraid his lover will see how different their worlds, "one with water, one without", are, see his sadness, his solitude, and leave him to his imperfect self.
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