Hiking South Mountain

By CYNTHIA HOGUE

Arid  stick  of  trail, waving ocotillo: O mottled cactus  branch  pointing beyond  the pictographs of water sources—sun-like spirals, deer drinking— you scan but cannot find.  The eagle’s come a second time to float  on  wind in slow circles of descent until he’s ten feet overhead banking to look you straight in the eye: You look back curious, alert—he is eagle-eyed, words of which under the intent gaze of one eye you grasp full meaning—you the large living thing on the ground. The third time, your wife saw a shadow of wings sweep over the yard. What was that? You were looking at the clock while your wife spoke, and did not see the flit of an impression of moving darkness passing by, or maybe you’d have said.

 

Cynthia Hogue has published twelve books, including Or Consequence, When the Water Came: Evacuees of Hurricane Katrina (interview-poems with photographs by Rebecca Ross), and the co-translated Fortino Sámano (The overflowing of the poem), by Virginie Lalucq and Jean-Luc Nancy (Omnidawn 2012). Her eighth collection of poetry, Revenance, is forthcoming from Red Hen Press in the Fall of 2014.  She teaches in the MFA Program at Arizona State University.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 08]

Hiking South Mountain

Related Posts

Lizard perched on a piece of wood.

Poems in Tutunakú and Spanish by Cruz Alejandra Lucas Juárez

CRUZ ALEJANDRA LUCAS JUÁREZ
Before learning to walk / and before I’d fallen upon the wet earth / already my heart hummed in three tones. / Even when my steps were still clumsy, / I already held three consciousnesses. // Long before my baptism, / already my three nahuals were running

cover of HEIRLOOM

March 2025 Poetry Feature: Catherine-Esther Cowie’s Heirloom

CATHERINE-ESTHER COWIE
Her eye-less eye. My long / longings brighten, like tinsel, the three-fingered / hand. Ashen lip. To exist in fragments. / To exist at all. A comfort. / A gutting. String her up then, / figurine on the cot mobile. / And I am the restless infant transfixed.

Dispatches from Mullai Nilam, Marutha Nilam, and Neithal Nilam

VIJAYALAKSHMI
There is fire everywhere, / both inside and outside. / Unaware of the intensity of the fire, / they maintain silence / like the serenity of a corpse. / From the burning fire / bursts out a waterfall tainted in red. / All over the shores have bloomed / the flaming lilies of motherhood.