No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
no worst but exceeding harm. That's how grief's shingle
attaches, and soon one grief let to grow turns into a roof.
How wide is grief's house? Who drops in, who lodges there?
And by its doors, thick green stalks and grief-vines curl,
watered, luxuriant. They'd tremble from the wail of grief-
makers, mourners paid to sing elaborate symphonies of grief
at wakes-- As if to say grief might be shared, broken
into pieces, grief-work sieved into smaller containers.
Sit next to them, share a shot glass of grief and discuss
the proper dress for grief: a wardrobe of black or white,
worn every day for a year? Grief's austere nature is silk
or solids, some stripes; plain collar, no beads. Grief
is grief's own best suit: it doesn't want a boutonnière.
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.