Vermont~

by Dave Seth Smith

The place we went
Is well suited
For fashioning
With words or paint
Resistant to artifice
Stubborn in beauty
But harsh

Vermont is spare with comforts
Most of the year
Locked in snows
And a cold
That penetrates
Chasing men indoors

Spring is beset
By black flies
Summer by horse
And deer flies
Mosquitos
And a close heat
Scattering men to the fields

Autumn, kinder
early
Before the frost
It is still warm
At our little pond
There are still
Dragonflies

A bit of the moon
Through clouds
Stillness
Fucking on a wooden dock
All creation is in some way
about filling holes

And after
The feel of the horned pout
Taking salt from our backs
And thighs
As we float
Brushes
On obsidian canvas

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