And the poem: does it hold you,
welcome you, swallow you whole?

Does it burrow in you like a secret,
wind the key a little tighter

in the lock, unravel like a bright
string of yarn plucked from a sleeve?

Does it send down the night like a maw
or use the silhouettes of trees for fringe?

When nothing stirs, it’s easy to think
the mountain’s cold heart won’t thaw.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← NostosStrange fur, this fine →

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 “N/ever”

  1. Love this poem! thank you for sharing! Your poem brought me back to the one that thawed my mountain heart full of atrophy which was Ennui by Plath. Every line here sings the song of how that poem destroyed me and how, in its wake, it remade me.

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