Dylan, Montana

by Mike Smith

for Michelle

Ankle-deep, squatting

among the darting minnows, having
caught herself again focused
on her reflected nose and hand-me-down chin,
she notices nothing, so lets herself
wonder (she swore she wouldn’t) how long
she must stay this way before she is
transformed. And what would she become—
a root that grips the bank, or a sliver
of the rocks her brothers never tire
of skipping across the water?
                                                             Then
another thought enters. Maybe, unnoticed
as she is, she might become something
altogether different than roots and rock,
something buried, forgotten, or better,
buried so as never to be known,

a thing unnamed, something,
at last, unnamable.


MIKE SMITH has published three collections of poetry, including Multiverse, a collection of two anagrammatic cycles. Recent poems and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in The Edgar Allan Poe Review, The Greensboro Review, Image: Journal of Art and Faith, Notre Dame Magazine, and Raleigh Review. In addition, his translation of the first part of Goethe’s Faust was published by Shearsman Books in 2012.