Sometime in the night, arms come to gather me—

When cardinals first appear in spring
they flicker, small flags in the trees.
And some days, an endless fog
grazes the stone heads of statues.
Rumor of bullets scheduled to fly
like hail or a passing rainstorm.
None of this is in the past: the birds
of grief touching down on our roofs.
And here is where a hand read my body
in the dark, its passage slower than time.
If you feed what opens like a maw,
will it leave you alone, distraction?
A sudden fever, a thread of fire:
bright contagion in the neighborhood.
Infinity is depicted as repetition, or
a loop concealing its end from itself.

2 Replies to “Sometime in the night, arms come to gather me—”

  1. It is with anticipation I read your poetry in the morning. I then have the advantage of recalling your words during the day or sharing your poetry with a friend, or family. In this poem, “Sometimes in the night, arms come to gather me” it is the first and the last lines of your poem that I willl ponder during the day, and in many days to come.
    You grace a day with beauty. Thank you Professor Igloria.

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