Ash Aloft

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

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your e-mail address will not be published. Required fields are marked *.