with her unearned admixable beauty
she sat up on the porch and asked for (f)light;
answerable only to poetry—
and love—to make it thru the greyblue night
blew smoke into words and even whiter ghosts
that could see what others in this broad dark
could not: she set to make of nothing most,
better: an everenlightening mark:
ghost gave her this: a piece of flint: that if
you rubbed the right way,
the lightlessness would come down, give up, lift—
and then there would be nothing left to say.
o sterilize the lyricism of
my sentence: make me plain again my love
From The Poem She Didn't Write and Other Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2014) by Olena Kalytiak Davis. Copyright © 2014 Olena Kalytiak Davis. All rights reserved.