THE BELIEVER

January 2011

Field Guide

a new poem

by Tracy K. Smith
You were you, but now and then you’d change.
Sometimes your face was some or another his,
And when I stood facing it, your body flinched.
You wanted to be alone—left alone.You waded
Into streets dense with people: women wearing
Book bags, or wooden beads. Girls holding smoke
A moment behind red mouths then pushing it out,
Posing, not breathing it in. You smiled
Like a man who knows how to crack a safe.

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Tracy K. Smith is the author of Duende and The Body’s Question. Her new collection, Life on Mars, will be published in May by Graywolf Press. She teaches at Princeton University.