Devil’s Lake

Fall 2011 Issue

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.

a photo of the author, Weston Cutter 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. More from this issue>