Imminence

This entry is part 74 of 95 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2010-11

 

Gray sky, gash of a gray breast feather
laid across the snow. It must have been
a dream— I walked up a flight of stairs
to a room where, with every step, a cloud of insects
rose from inside each plank of wood. Like wraiths,
they circled. They wound tissue ribbons and dogged
my heels. I cried out and a voice replied
with some kind of apology. Waking, I found
three plastic discs with electrodes still stuck
to my shoulder blades, to the small of
my back. A thin humming, slight as wings,
disappeared over the roof of my brain.
In the maple, shadow of a sharp-shinned
hawk; and somewhere, some small creature
flattening itself against the ground.

Luisa A. Igloria
02 26 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.

Series Navigation← Little Waking SongLetter to Water →

OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES

One Reply to “Imminence”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Discover more from Via Negativa

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading