The bits of broken plastic, a cellphone part, a crumpled bill:
evidence left in haste or panic on the sidewalk.
The neighbors peering out from behind their blinds.
The voice on the phone asking,
Shouldn’t you be telling this to the police?
The caller responding, I thought you were the police?
The flutter of a newspaper someone left on a bench;
the dogs sniffing under the bushes.
Crackle of radio static, news flash on who was caught—
including a twelve year old. The afternoon’s cheek
suddenly, intensely, desiring sleep.
Three croaks from overhead: ravens or crows?
—Luisa A. Igloria
10 24 2011
In response to an entry from The Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Listening to Piazzolla’s Tango Etudes
- Eating Dried Fish With Our Hands
- Dear nostalgia,
- What We Look For
- Without Translation
- Heart Weighted With Cares
- Tableaux Vivants
- Listening to Chopin’s Prelude in D-flat Major, Op. 28, No. 15
- Dear solitude,
- Landscape, with Notes of Red
- Blue Stone Blues
- Landscape, with a Glimpse of the Soul as it Leaves the Body
- How I Came to Writing
- When does the hunger abate;
- Dear errant winds at dusk,
- Dear scarlet-flushed, hydraulic,
- Monday’s News
- Landscape, with Traces of Prior Events
- On the Nature of Things
- Spell Against Grey
- Landscape, with Castoffs on the Sidewalk
- Sleepless Ghazal
- Last Call
- Delivery Confirmation
- Landscape, with Early Frost and a Dream Interior
- Campus Elegy
- Ghazal: Chimerae
- Maguindanao Ghazal
- Insurgent Song
- Paper Ghazal
- Ghazal of the Transcendental
- Hot Lyric
- On the sense of danger or foreboding, the prickling
- Postcard from the Labyrinth
- Letter to One Seeking Flight
- Unbelievable Ends
- In the chapel of perpetual adoration,
- Night Rain
- Conversation that Ends with a Dream of Accounting
- Lyric on the Edge of Winter
- Paper Cut #2
- And once again,
- Prayer Among the Stones
- Call and Response
- Dark Prayer
- Song of Snow
- Santa Milagrita
- Song without Strings
- Morning Song