Effleurage

Zephyr over water (the last move
of zephyr outside a zoo)
so light, unseen to move
a liquid stroke over liquid beneath.

Skin could do this to skin
and find fish within
or heavier breathing aggrieved bears
without ice holes to speak.

Stay, the moving fingers semaphore
to bear or maggot, herring or swan
pushing their snouts towards us.
Touch is our deepest theology.

Elizabeth Smither

A young man at a reading asked if he could request this poem and I’ve always felt sorry I disappointed him, not being a memoriser of poems. It was published in A Question of Gravity (Arc Publications, 2004) and is about the French word, effleurage, for a light gliding stroking touch on the skin; it is useful for headaches before they get too severe and it is also used at the beginning or end of a massage session.

Zephyr means a soft gentle breeze, hardly perceptible (deliberately confused with zebra in the poem) and bears are too heavy. The effleurage touch is as light as you can make it but it is surprisingly comforting.  

Elizabeth Smither’s four novellas, Angel Train, will be published in November by Quentin Wilson.

Playing Favourites is a new series on Poetry Shelf. Invited poets pick a favourite poem from their backlist and write a small (or longer) piece to accompany the poem. The written accompaniment may be anecdotal, consider the poem itself, the context in which it was written (whether the times or personal), shifting relationships with the writing, even the times in which the poet is reading it now, or whatever takes the poet’s fancy.