Above the road’s dead grass and gravel,
beneath the raftered lattice of tree limbs,
one crow cries, high and shrill. Some days
there’s nothing intermediate, only
the line that cleaves between suspension
and release. I’ve walked from back
door to gate to rutted street.
And the times I’ve done it over—
the bees fluting their heady pollen
one season, the moths tearing
their shrouds at dusk. When I
come in, sometimes I peel
the burr off the hems of pants,
and twilight has come to rest
its arms on the window ledge.
—Luisa A. Igloria
02 24 2011
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.