The man walking his dog notices that under the bridal
wreath bush, a cardinal flickers like a pilot light.
The woman at her window sees the moon not yet
completely faded in the sky, half a pair of pearl earrings
she still keeps in her drawer though the other
has long gone missing. What parts do we need
to complete each other? Sometimes the day
wobbles like a cart with one wheel.
Sometimes it arrows like a train through
the countryside, even though we don’t see it.
We hear its rush onward, its insistent
push toward the distance. The cold
is intense today, and hard to withstand
alone, out in the open. The man gestures
to his dog and retraces his steps.
The woman turns away from the window.
In the bushes, a tiny red brushstroke
wavering in the cross-hatched branches.
—Luisa A. Igloria
01.22.2011 (via Blackberry)
In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.
Poet Luisa A. Igloria (Poetry Foundation web page, author webpage ) is the winner of the 2015 Resurgence Prize (UK), the world’s first major award for ecopoetry, selected by former UK poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion, Alice Oswald, and Jo Shapcott. She is the author of What is Left of Wings, I Ask (2018 Center for the Book Arts Letterpress Chapbook Prize, selected by Natasha Trethewey); Bright as Mirrors Left in the Grass (Kudzu House Press eChapbook selection for Spring 2015), 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), and nine other books. She is a member of the core faculty of the MFA Creative Writing Program at Old Dominion University which she directed from 2009-2015. In 2018, she was the inaugural Glasgow Distinguished Writer in Residence at Washington and Lee University. When she isn’t writing, reading, or teaching, she cooks with her family, knits, hand-binds books, and listens to tango music.