A poem by Maxine Rose Munro
October 1, 2017
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I’d open the front door but it was never
long before they’d troop out the back.
Get lost in the wastes among bins and
stray cats, gulls. So I thought I’d latch
the back door, but I must’ve forgot
or someone picked the lock. I came
in from the kitchen with snacks to find
myself alone again. I tried calling,
hunted among the black plastic trash,
got badly scratched by a cat, flapped
at by gulls. These days I guard the front,
not the back. I keep my door on a chain,
let very few in. And if they want to leave
they can go the way they came.