Not Yet There

This entry is part 12 of 93 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011

The tree is intricate, a lattice
with many moving parts: sparrows,
robins, a blackbird’s creak.

The ox in the sky pulls the plow.
The archer strings his one good
arrow across the bow. The dipper’s

hinged against the lip of the grassy well.
And I have only my hungry heart, my
wobbly heart: I cart it everywhere I go.

Luisa A. Igloria
03 31 2011

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Postcard to GreyLetter to the Street Where I Grew Up (City Camp Alley, Baguio City) →

About Luisa A. Igloria

Poet Luisa A. Igloria (website) is the author of Juan Luna’s Revolver (2009 Ernest Sandeen Prize, University of Notre Dame Press), Trill & Mordent (WordTech Editions, 2005) and 8 other books. When she isn’t writing, reading, or teaching, she cooks with her family, hand-binds books, listens to tango music, and keeps her radar tuned for cool lizard sightings.
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