Bright as Mirrors Left in the Grass

Poems by Luisa A. Igloria


Cover Art by Sean Abrahams

Author Biography

Issue 5-1, eChapbook (Series Number 1)
Autumnal Equinox: 20 March 2015

The Buddha in the garden thinks

perhaps it’s no use arguing with the air, wrangling

with the voices that don’t reply to the harangues
she hurls into the compost pit. Perhaps it’s no use

working oneself into a frenzy before an audience of
the unmoved. After all, the gods come down and fuck

with us when they please: they pluck the pie—
made so lovingly for the feast-day

with every last bit of lard and fruit
and flour— from the sill. They tumble

a girl into the long grass by the river, tangle
her hair in the weeds. Perhaps it’s futile,

but perhaps that’s just another of their lies
and propaganda: so she sits, grubbing in the soil

where earthworms coil their sly and inky
bodies. Insects and weeds instruct: all kinds

of things, small and underfoot, leave traps
below the radar. Someday, their network

of intricate lattices will bore into
the foundation, to crumble it at a touch.

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