Tonight, I’m the loneliest I’ve ever been.
It’s been a week since our conversation
(if you can call it that) about snow.
How it must be cleared quickly no matter
how we feel about going out. Today,
I saw myself in screens, reflected in their
dark glass. Spectral, like an idea
when really I wanted to be bloody.
They told me to write you without
emotion. They said, tell him explicitly
what you need. What came out:
Concentrate all your energy
at the rims of our openings.
Paragraphs, like marriages, begin
in certainty and end in spectacle:
Part metal, part bird. I open and close
your mouth like my hand was inside you.
Tuesday I gave you the letter. I hear
our daughter waking up. She calls
out for me, and I get her. In the morning,
the light went through the house, lit every
surface, like the house was an ear
tilted toward the dawn, like it
was trying hard to listen.
Lindsay Illich is the author of Rile & Heave (Texas Review Press, 2017) and the chapbook Heteroglossia (Anchor & Plume, 2016). Rile & Heave won the Texas Review Press Breakthrough Prize in Poetry. She teaches writing at Curry College in Milton, Massachusetts.
Laurence Hervieux-Gosselin was born in Montreal, Quebec. She studied scriptwriting and communications at Université du Québec à Montréal and has a BFA in Photography from Concordia University. She is currently an MFA candidate in Art Photography in the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Syracuse University. In 2018, she was a finalist for the Scotiabank New Generation Photography Award, and in 2014, she was a finalist for the Ideastap Photographic Award with Magnum Photos. Her work has been exhibited at Uqbar (Berlin, 2018), La Castiglione (Montreal, 2018), Burrard Arts Foundation (Vancouver, 2017), Monash Gallery of Art (Melbourne, 2017), dnj Gallery (Santa Monica, 2016), and The Old Truman Brewery (London, 2014).