Issue a5 · 2012



Two Poems


by Travis Cebula





what special affinities

         appear between a woman

     and reflection?


what luminous sign attracted

         this mystery of wife,

     silent in both mirrors,


this continuous flesh—

         her gaze

     and shadow,


         her simultaneous pressure?





the likes of her stag,

         stubborn just the one

     time—he flourishes,


his shivering image shatters

     over her world.


that gesture would be a universal

     gift of visible


sense.  but like henpecked

     Socrates, anyway,


he was a damn yellow going.











Travis Cebula lives and creates in Colorado, where he earned an MFA in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School.  His poems, essays, stories, and photographs have appeared internationally in various print and on-line journals.  He is the author of five chapbooks and one full-length collection of poetry, Under the Sky They Lit Cities (BlazeVOX).  In 2011 he was gratefully awarded the Pavel Srut Fellowship for poetry by Western Michigan University.