Andrés Cerpa is the author of Bicycle in a Ransacked City: An Elegy, forthcoming from Alice James Books (January 2019). He was raised in Staten Island, New York, and spent many of his childhood summers living with his grandparents in Puerto Rico.




Andrés Cerpa

At the Water



Mud; the early frescos I left in a lean-to, in the slats & the wine dark by the shore. They wait in the distance with the rest of my sleep, as the tugboats pass through an industrial blur. I am again watching this place, from a dull green civic, waiting to enter. Then the radio goes dim. The car door goes mute. The oil-slick night takes its rag to my jaw. Where I drew god's answer to Job, a woman, balanced on the tracks of the Staten Island railroad, fifty years shut down sometime in my youth, is flooding tonight. Behind her, an open window, gull white razors & the last child throwing bread into the light as the birds follow. In the distance, the tracks continue, rusting over the water while the slats drift out. I come to this shore, a frame on the abyss, because it feels like myself: tired & trying to move from halogen to a shimmer on the water. This gets old & I get older, stubborn, but the place becomes a friend. How could it not when this world is so often the bulletproof box at the deli revolving, the moment when the figure behind the glass becomes opaque & it seems as though nothing has entered.



Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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