And just like that, another season’s over: clipped
smell of grass now overlaid with something else
that lengthens, spindles. The late crop on the tree
now harder, smaller— as if beginning the inward turn,
rehearsing for more callous weather. My nerve’s
more restless too: I startle easy from hard-sown sleep,
stumble from the screen of dreams, wanting either warmth
or a long drink of water. The numbers ticking at my wrist
show me my pulse, how many flights of stairs, how many
steps I’ve taken. But nothing I know will tell me
what in the marrow darkens, what it multiplies
then churns through cells of blood. I hoist myself
back into bed as daybreak rounds the corner, not always
seeing when dappled light begins to shade the blinds.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
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.