1. Implacable whites, unappeasable skies:
    the saturate shell of our wandering eyes.

  2. Letter to Implacable Things

    Can’t I change my mind, can’t I raise
    my eyebrow, can’t I wriggle out of this
    one by being charming or cute or contrite?
    But really, can’t you change the way you’ve
    apparently mapped the rest of the script, all
    cuts and white-outs, implacable as a sky
    hung like canvas backdrop (so fake, so
    obviously without verisimilitude, don’t
    you know)? Can’t I go on vacation, can’t I
    stay for as long as I want, can’t I sleep in
    then decide I’m no longer returning
    to you? Can’t I say fuck to structure
    and schedules and pearls, can’t I fill
    my pockets with stones? Can’t I tell you
    it’s you, can’t I take you with me? Can’t I
    choose this over that and not burn
    for the blame? Can’t I husband and wed
    and verb but only belong to myself?

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    03 22 2011

  3. Morning like A4 paper is implacable white,
    soon scrawls of prayers one looped over the other
    fill the space above the roofs, rise high
    to the heavens in a font that only gods can read.

Comments are closed.