Luisa A. Igloria

Poet Luisa A. Igloria (website) is the author of 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.

“Excuse my not/ waiting as others do/ to be.” ~ D. Bonta

Every clock in the house shaves off
too little or too much, but none

arrives at consensus as to the nature
of what winds around and around itself

like a maypole. I walk to the river
to investigate abandoned shells,

dry pods, serifs drawn by the feet
of wading birds: they’re never afraid,

no matter how many times they step
into the river’s text.


In response to Via Negativa: Carpe diem.

at this time of year: torrents
fall across town, on the main street
and its crowded manifest of store
fronts, the vendors taking shelter

under flimsy plastic awnings.
When lightning flashes, the spill
of diesel from passing trucks
makes momentary iridescence.

I am not, at least, lashed to the mast
of a boat adrift in the heart of a hurricane.
Even the dogs are grateful to go indoors
where they can whimper from their caves

of sleep. Headlights of passing cars
sweep across the middle of restless
dreams. And in the hills, even the bats
fold themselves into rows of dark umbrellas.