Mariposa – The Coming of the Toads

The Gate

Those years after she lost
her memory she said she
mellowed as her hurt went
down through her bones.

Still she knew all the hidings
and when one was out of place
she awoke in the dark under
her worries and prayed

she hated she said when
someone did her like that
her ears keen on the gate
latch and the open and close

of the side door where they
escaped with such little
grasp of their own budding
sorrow like lily bulbs.

Tall steel T’s in concrete
about twenty feet apart
three wires pulled taut
but she needs a forth

with another on the way
wet clothes lines sagging
in the sunny backyard
of the corner lot on Mariposa

where a city truck pulls up
workers dash to the Village Market
and out hop back to work
when she hears a wolf whistle

as she dangles bras and panties
diapers socks and a white sheet
from the lines to dry and she
wonders at such sun in winter.