This entry is part 5 of 92 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011


The dog is scratching at the door
to be let out. The window sash
begs to be lifted, the walls want to toss

their shadowed murals out into the yard.
The water wants to drain away
from the yellowed tub. Do you hear

the high-pitched whistle of waxwings
passing overhead, the lower registers of air
wound through a labyrinth of trees? The child

creases the paper once and once again—
There are mountains and valleys, somewhere
a sea; chalk-white sails that one can hardly tell

apart from the crested foam of waves.

Luisa A. Igloria
03 24 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.

Series Navigation← Landscape, with Cave and LoversLetter to Self, Somewhere Other than Here →
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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 (forthcoming, 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, hand-binds books, and listens to tango music.

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