Why did he like them
so much, these outside
fucks? We couldn’t
stroll a city block
without him clocking
every caverned alley, nor
could we enjoy nature
without him begging me
to lie down in the grass
in the exact outline
of his shadow. Once,
there were bison
just inches from us. (I’ve
written of this before,
and who wouldn’t revisit
the image?) They smelled
mangy and milky
like him, like his
beard, like my body
when he was done. What
was he hoping for?
We all understand
the specifics, but I think
he needed a release
from fear, a brave ecstasy
in the valley, and maybe
a cave to pretend
to retreat to – yes,
he said he wanted me,
but really, I was just
a horse he rode toward
some receding sunset,
some gold horizon he thought
he saw once, but at least
he kept trying
to reach it, at least
I was a good horse.
The Natural World
Jess Smith is the author of Lady Smith (forthcoming from University of Akron Press). Her work can be found in Prairie Schooner, The Cincinnati Review, 32 Poems, The Rumpus, and other journals. She is currently an Assistant Professor of Practice at Texas Tech University.