UnfortunatelyLit Two Poems by Myriam Legault-Beauregard
Ashes
Did she ever know
there was an ant staring at her
sunshine through a magnifying glass?
Folie*
I am not crazy
about that funny word:
It almost sounds cheerful,
cute, inconsequential.
suits me much better:
bothered,
out of range,
unhinged,
my binary brain
soothed by drugs
is neither
a foe
nor a lie.
folie.
Je suis dérangée.
hors des rangs,
*Mobile devices don’t like experimental formatting, so here’s an image version of the poem if you’re reading this on your phone:
Myriam Legault-Beauregard (she/her) is, above everything else, a loving mother and translator. At night, when her two young children are asleep, she pursues her literary dreams. Her translations can be found in K1N, Reunion, and ellipse, and some of her original works have been published in PØST-, ellipse, and Bending Genres. While French is her first language, she also enjoys writing in English. She is currently enrolled in a French Studies PhD program at the University of Ottawa. Her poetry is often influenced by her bipolar affective disorder. You can find her on Twitter @Myr333.
Editors’ note on Folie: If you don’t speak French, here’s some help—
- folie means “madness” or “craziness.” Pronounced foh-lee.
- Je suis dérangée means “I am deranged.” Pronounced jeuh swee day-rahn-jay. “Je suis fou/folle” is how you would say “I am crazy.” Recognize the root from “folie”?
- hors des rangs means “out of ranks.” Pronounced or day rahng. Although “out of range” and “hors des rangs” are on the same line and look similar, they don’t mean the same thing at all. The line itself breaks ranks with the others, serving as a visual and thematic climax.
Why we chose Ashes: We love how Myriam took the classic image of a child burning ants with a magnifying glass and shifted the focus ever-so-slightly; the effect is as delightful as it is bleak. On its face, the poem is about “she,” who shows how thoughtless humans can be. The use of “know” instead of “think” is striking; was she ever able to conceive of the ant as a living being outside of herself? Yet by giving weight to the ant’s perspective as well, we’re reminded of how small we are as people, staring up at things we don’t understand, unaware of danger that might be staring right back at us.
Why we chose Folie: A self-examination of mental health through the lens of language translation and poetry?!?! Yes please! We love the sense of ownership Myriam takes over herself in this poem. Folie is 100% too whimsical a word for its meaning. Back in the ’90s, there was an intensely flowery perfume called Folie Douce (i.e., gentle madness/sweet madness). Sure, it’s cute and marketable, but is there ever anything gentle or sweet about fighting with your own mind?
