Devil’s Lake

How to know what song was playing at your conception(?): never ask. Instead scour the Globe

for the sound of yourself: it will be a sound that halves you down, peach pit—

so that whatever is conceived of next

will experience the surface of the world as dirty and sour and that’s right.

Songs for the low afternoon in the orchard—

I sat on the edge of a hay ride,

blithely plucked every apple that passed

within my reach, looked swollen

in my jacket—you are not my

sound—let us try harder to be separate,

then.

ROSS HERNANDEZ studied English literature at the University of Minnesota. His poems, shorts, and essays have appeared in MPLS Zine and Middle Western Magazine, as well as in two independently printed books called Therefore, I Believe That I Want You Immensely and Mr. Gormanizer and Mr. Osterizer Are Both Doing Very Well, Their Influences Never Cross, and They Never Meddle in One Another’s Business on www.cathyboy.com. More from this issue >