Luisa A. Igloria

Poet Luisa A. Igloria (website) is the author of the forthcoming Ode to the Heart Smaller than a Pencil Eraser (Utah State University Press, 2014 May Swenson Prize), Night Willow (Phoenicia Publishing, 2014), The Saints of Streets (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2013), 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.

If the brown dog lies
panting in the sun,

do you think that means
it’s hot? If the skies

are overcast, do you think
we’ll see the once-in-a-lifetime

alignment of the stars? If
there are villages three

days’ hike reachable only
through trails that hug the cliffs,

should we go to the trouble
of a costly expedition? Isn’t it all

the same to make up names
and numbers, invent a history

for those poor people huddled there,
one they couldn’t after all read?

Luisa A. Igloria
08 22 2014
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Summer simmers down, but it isn’t
all gone. So drink slowly, drink
everything, down to the thick,

dark sludge at the bottom
of the cup. Out in the fields,
find what remains when the grain

has separated from the chaff.
Though there might not be much
time left, walk to the end

of the street just to see
how the river is tinged
with colors of fire:

loveliest surface that never rests,
that flares like a beacon in war,
brightest before night comes down.

Luisa A. Igloria
08 15 2014
In response to Via Negativa: War Dance.