For Now

What do I wish? For now, enough time
to see the long grass bending under day-
long rain and decide it is time to go

into the kitchen where I can knead
something with my hands: flour and some
water; salt, oil, a handful of rosemary—

Enough time put the kettle on to boil,
to plant one dried tooth of anise
in the stew to help me remember

to dream; to lay one extra plate
for the one who isn’t here.
And even then night falls,

day slips away, restless as this
body craving respite: languid
thoughts, elusive sleep.


In response to Morning Porch and small stone (91).

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.

One Reply to “For Now”

  1. To leave an extra plate for one not there:
    Mother perfected that ritual when he left.
    There was no returning, but what of it?
    He will be here at sundown. Your father
    Is always prompt. The raw dinakdakan
    Will spoil if he did not come on time.
    She waited, but it took so long. She slept.
    Wrapped in her flannel blanket, she knew
    She’d have enough warmth for both of them.

    A.B. Casuga

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