Weston Cutter: The Horse of Saint Recall
No mysteries and Lord the moon’s
right where
You last night left it
minus two, three degrees, today’s heat
kicked my shins while the neighbor
-hood kids
chased puppywild +
unschoolable through sprinklers,
dripping wet they took to the side
-walk in front
of my house + never
glanced at the empty seat I’d set myself in,
Lord these late stages would be easier
to suffer prune
and Metamucilly through
had the thunder struck when I was still
capable of lightning, tho electricity
maps our
bones, and if You’ll
never offer resolution on whether light
is particle or wave, from this canvas
seat know
I too Lord can be
duplicitous, can remember down
through tendons + the halflife of hemo-
globin: I re-
member both the minute
first spent kissing E’s soft cheek and
telling myself remember this, this kiss, skin
on lips. As if
I’d ever forget either. Could.
Lord were I still streaky + soaked I too
would ignore empty men on empty
porch chairs
but Lord I’m not, and
Lord tonight I know the moon will be
right where You last night left it minus
another few
degrees: they’re dim
arithmetic morsels You allow yet how
filling Lord, how fulfilling the just-
enough bit
none of us (in Your
light, image, both) ever chew fully through.
WESTON CUTTER’s from Minnesota, teaches at the University of St. Francis, has work recently taken or published in the Kenyon Review, Ploughshares, and Forklift, Ohio, edits the book review site Corduroy Books, and published his first book of fiction, You’d Be a Stranger, Too last December.