Catcalls
Once upon a time,
They called for her:
Cats in black Cameros,
Cruising by slow;
Wolves on worksites,
Gripping hammers
In calloused fists;
Men who held her youth
And innocence
In some hard regard.
Nowadays,
The only cat who calls
Is her hungry, insistent kitten;
The wolves who whistle
Are coyotes,
Skulking among the ewes
In the dusk pasture.
The squawks of Stellar’s jays
Are a constant reminder:
She is no longer young,
And has long ago left
Strolling the city’s streets.