There’s some shared instinct that prompts us to look skyward. Partly this instinct has to do with our appreciation for beauty, partly with our longing for escape. The sky is both ever-constant and ever-changing. The sky seen in “As Above” is Florida sky: shifting and near-turbulent, and representative for me of a certain version of home, accessible at the moment only via atmospheric meditation. If divination means to seek some hidden insight into the future, it would seem to me, in this extended limbo, that the best way to query the future is to stare directly into it. One doesn’t need cards or dowsing rods, but simply to ask the question, which, in time, usually answers itself.
E.G. Cunningham is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Ex Domestica, and a chapbook, Apologetics. Her work has appeared in Barrow Street, Colorado Review, Fugue, The Lincoln Review, The Nation, Poetry London, The Poetry Review, The Shore, and other publications. She teaches at the University of California, Merced.