front cover of The Fire Passage
The Fire Passage
Lisa Wells
Four Way Books, 2025
Winner of the 2025 Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry selected by Pulitzer Prize recipient Diane Seuss, The Fire Passage is a lyric descent in the epic tradition, traveling unto realms unmoored by extreme weather and mysterious illness before resurfacing to the light of a world remade. Recording her experience of a health crisis amid continuous natural disaster, poet Lisa Wells recontextualizes biblically scaled plagues as the entropic catastrophes of our late-stage capitalist society. “I was sick, plainly. / I had my symptoms.” Confronted with the disbelief and “skeptical pity” of medical professionals, Wells brilliantly illuminates the psychological exile of illness where patients, “turned out by the body,” find themselves on “malignancy’s forced pilgrimage.” She remembers the fight for her life as a gauntlet of flame, a path guarded by gatekeepers who acted “as if the wound were in [her] mind.” (“And it was. But it was elsewhere, too.”) This book serves as the answer to a query posed by bad-faith actors and the insightful dream-self alike: “so the wound is a window?” These pages convey grim comfort and radical optimism at once, reminding, “Friend, we die, but do not die alone.” They insist on an affirmative practice of responding to rhetorical questions, building solidarity among the weary who call out, ensuring that they — that we — are not alone with silence. “It comes for all? // It comes for all.” Despite its frank acknowledgment of fire’s lethal nature, the fortifying poetics of this book never preclude the possibility of resurrection or lose their focus on rebuilding a better world from the ashes of this one. “Do not shrink from That Which / razed the scab, will / fertilize the disturbance,” Wells commands us. She entreats us to measure up to a corrective future. “Already its great wave breaks / against the mangroves. // Let us go / and greet it.”
 
[more]

front cover of The Fix
The Fix
Lisa Wells
University of Iowa Press, 2018

Proceeding from Hélène Cixous’s charge to “kill the false woman who is preventing the live one from breathing,” The Fix forges that woman’s reckoning with her violent past, with her sexuality, and with a future unmoored from the trappings of domestic life. These poems of lyric beauty and unflinching candor negotiate the terrain of contradictory desire—often to darkly comedic effect. In encounters with strangers in dive bars and on highway shoulders, and through ekphrastic engagement with visionaries like William Blake, José Clemente Orozco, and the Talking Heads, this book seeks the real beneath the dissembling surface. Here, nothing is fixed, but grace arrives by diving into the complicated past in order to find a way to live, now.

“Woman Seated with Thighs Apart” 

Often I am permitted to return to this kitchen 

tipsy, pinned to the fridge, to the precise 

instant the kiss smashed in. 

When the jaws of night are grinding 

and the double bed is half asleep 

the snore beside me syncs 

to the traffic light, pulsing red, ragged up 

in the linen curtain. 

I leak such solicitous sighs 

to asphalt, slicked with black ice, high beams speed 

over my body whole 

while the drugstore weeps its remedy 

in strident neon throbs— 

I doubt I’ll make it out. 

It’s a cold country. It’s the sting of quarantine. 

It’s my own two hands working 

deep inside the sheets. 

[more]


Send via email Share on Facebook Share on Twitter