“There But For The Grace…” by Carole Johnston

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saw her again yesterday
hobgobbling around town
in her grey winter coat 85
degrees but she drags those
bags of bags hanging from
that shopping cart hovers
over collected Kroger plastic
bent like tall grass in wind

I’ve seen her year after year
snow and sun that same coat
protects her from eyes that
would judge the rat feet crow
feathers torn scraps of calico
purple knit hat binding her
medusa hair that crooked spine
knobbed knees witch fingers

I’ve seen her on Euclid and
Old Lafayette the corner of
High and Rose always
hunkered down on the curb
surrounded by her treasure
her wandering home her
bags of bags of bags

I wonder where she sleeps

-Carole Johnston

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