An Elm We Lost
for chorus, soloists and ensemble
On it we wrote a little essay
about who loved who.
Shade moves in the grass, never still,
and they still do.
The beauty of an old desk blotter where ink stains grew into the shapes of ships
in a turbulent ocean,
and the ticking of the clock in the sunlight thickened by dust.
The clacking of the typewriter keys, the big zipper sound of the carriage return,
and the sound of the struck bell muffled in the drapes.
The air was rich with time, when there was still time.
The letter ripened slowly in the typewriter.
The minute hand took a second to move one digit.
Under the glass that covered the desktop, a map and family photos.
The former poem creates a structural framework, and the latter is embedded into the middle of the composition, as a reflection‹a moment in time‹and sung by the two soloists. In setting the poem, I took Marvinąs short poem, fragmented the lines and presented the textural phrases starting from the end and working in reverse. My composition is a threnody‹a lamentation‹intended to commemorate the first anniversary of the events of 11 September 2001. This is reflected in the music by step-wise descending thirds, a spondaic rhythm (long-long) in the coda with a further fragmentation of the poem, presenting only the nouns and verbs, sung as a hocket in turn by the two soloists (the twin towers) and chorus (those lost to us, like the dead).
I owe a debt of gratitude to Beverly Everett, who suggested the initial idea of the work and its instrumentation, and which led to its eventual commission.