for Barton Smock

     I
to see the flooding lake I crawl
through the thicket

I imagined
being the devil’s
garden
as a child

a lake
I first called
       *blue prison
but now
             love

after swimming
lessons grandmother
funded

     II
squatting arsonists occupy
the town’s church

during weeknights
I am one of four who knows

When it burns
I'll steal the stoup

     III
I dream rarely and only in naps

waking,

I try restraining
fantasies of
faceless women

     IV
rainstorms brake
the lake’s edges,
muddy the bankside flowers,
leave the canal sullied
forever

looking on, I
recall
*generosity