The Fashion of La Folie

By SUSAN KINSOLVING

 

1754

She insisted that a gazebo, grotto, and gate be added
to the Estate. Two obelisks were next. And soon, a sham
castle was built on adjoining land. Then she planned
a Greek temple for a statuesque Aphrodite and six
water-spouting nymphs. Plus, a pagoda! Her follies
were, as Lord Clark said, monuments to mood. But
she had so many! Her fortune fed her fantasies until
one stormy day, she was caught in a downpour. Under
the rubble-stone roof of her hidden hermitage for hours,
she waited, her peasant costume sopping, her doeskin
slippers soaked. The cracking sound was not thunder.
Mossy timbers crashed on her kerchiefed head. Found
dead, she was soon entombed in a mausoleum. In time,
vandals destroyed the weeping angels, Corinthian capitals,
and garlanded urns. Her resting place was a ruin, a final folly.

Susan Kinsolving has published the poetry collections The White Eyelash, Dailies & Rushes, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, Among Flowers,and the forthcoming My Glass Eye. As a librettist, she has had works performed with the Marin Symphony, Santa Rosa Symphony, Glimmerglass Opera, and The Baroque Choral Guild in New York, The Netherlands, Italy, and California.

[Purchase your copy of Issue 02 here.]

The Fashion of La Folie

Related Posts

Chinese Palace

Portfolio from China: Poetry Feature I

LI ZHUANG
In your fantasy, the gilded eaves of Tang poked at the sun. / In their shadow, a phoenix rose. / Amid the smoke of burned pepper and orchids, / the emperor’s favorite consort twirled her long sleeves. / Once, in Luo Yang, the moon and the sun shone together.

Xu sits with Grandma He, the last natural heir of Nüshu, and her two friends next to her home in Jiangyong. Still from Xu’s documentary film, “Outside Women’s Café (2023)”. Image courtesy of the artist.

Against This Earth, We Knock

JINJIN XU
The script takes the form of a willow-like text, distinctive from traditional Chinese text in its thin shape and elegance. Whenever Grandma He’s grandmother taught her to write the script, she would cry, as if the physical act of writing the script is an act of confession.

a photo of raindrops on blue window glass

Portfolio from China: Poetry Feature II

YUN QIN WANG 
June rain draws a cross on the glass.  / Alcohol evaporates.  / If I come back to you,  / I can write. My time in China  / is an unending funeral.  / Nobody cried. The notebook is wet.