Lindsay Remee Ahl: (“Hidden Flame” in The Southern Review, Summer 2018)
I was ash in the wide sky.
François Lachance:
I was awash in the wide sky
I think the wash comes from the very painterly presences in this lyric.
Her poem opens:
I spent my childhood in a cave,
outside glowing snow, inside Byzantine paintings,
ceiling bats, everything drawn like a breath.
When I wanted to leave, I lit myself on fire; it didn’t hurt—
I listened to the flames the way an owl listens to air currents;
I was ash in the wide sky.
Indeed, everything drawn like a breath, exhaling to ash …
And so for day 2489
06.10.2013