Friday March 25, 2011

Heavy frost, and the bare dirt in the garden has crystallized into icy turrets. Motes of snow float past, backlit by the sun. Robin song.

2 Comments


  1. Letter to Self, Somewhere Other than Here

    Dear doppelganger, where in the world
    have you been traveling? When I am
    cleaning house, sometimes I come
    upon bits and pieces of your wardrobe:
    crystal teardrop earrings, those pumps
    of sumptuous leather, that airy, off-
    the-shoulder frock. And in the back
    of the closet, what are those old
    letters tied with ribbon, from Diego
    and Hans, and Frank? Here, today,
    there’s heavy frost, bare dirt in
    the garden– though I hope one of us
    might have remembered sometime ago
    to put bulbs in the soil. Motes of snow
    revolve like lazy angels, backlit by
    the sun. I make wishes, missing your
    carefree laughter, your *joie de vivre*,
    the way you entered any department
    store and charmed the discounts off
    the hapless young clerks who wouldn’t
    know what just hit them. Come back
    soon– I have a Mozart cake with three
    layers of Bavarian cream, and I promise
    not to work on weekends (unless there’s
    a real emergency). I dream of water-
    colors, the stippled backs of fish in bright
    green water, myself a little raft sailing away.

    – Luisa A. Igloria
    03 25 2011
    Sent via my Blackberry


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