Devil’s Lake | Poetry by André Cerpa

Spring 2016 Issue

Andrés Cerpa: From 800 Victory Blvd.

Rilke’s language: pleiad wings: the water

& trams running through the deep October where I believed I didn’t need any love.

What do you see or what do you dream?

I see my life as a votive. My body a ditch. The great cities

a forest to loose in the burning

Nothing as wild as man. Boars coming down from the dark

& shot in the street. Green. Green. I miss you. I walked away with a notebook,

five socks, my drugs & two books.

Now I write each night in the morning.

The moment before becomes an expanse. After, I find my face in the mirror.

face like a room with one chair.

ANDRÉS CERPA was raised in Staten Island, New York. He holds a BA in English Literature from the University of Delaware and an MFA from Rutgers University Newark. He is a recipient of a fellowship from the MacDowell Colony and his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, The Cider Press Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, and West Branch. More from this issue >