Morning Lyric

This entry is part 94 of 95 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2010-11

Wear the red you can’t even say in language.

Sing in the muddy yard, garrulous as an unmarried uncle.

Make the soaring crackle long radio waves in the blood.

Torch the yellow of lemons into limoncello.

Render the salt from green pickled buds.

Undo the leathered buttons of your cardigan.

Make a promise that is a giving and not an asking.

Tell it even if it’s only partly true.

 
Luisa A. Igloria
03 18 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.

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6 Comments


      1. That’s up to you. Starting with Sunday’s Morning Porch, though, it’s going to be a new series! ‘Cause that’s the equinox.

        Reply

      2. So, I mean, you’d have to write eight more poems based on Morning Porch poems from this winter. Round numbers ain’t worth that much IMO. Remember too that there are actually four more poems in the series than the number reflects, since early on I bundled a few into one post. Also, if you count that series of letter poems we made, you’ve already exceeded 100 poems at VN.

        Reply

  1. Just to say how I love the garruous unmarried uncle – we had one like that!

    Reply

    1. Lucy, I think every family must have at least one of those :) I loved learning about “thews” from your recent post, BTW. And enjoyed your lovely limpet photos.

      Reply

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