Scaphiopus couchii
Couch's spadefoot toad
Kathleen Hellen
No gland to shoulder venom, wartless, nocturnal—
its pupils catlike, vertical
for ambush, for leaping at the ant,
the nymphal termite, the beetle in the muck—
though true enough in urgency
its cycle gripped by drought
the intermittent flood of an arroyo interrupting
the snore of spadefoot sickling up, rushing
to colonize the artifact ephemeral—
stock tanks at the base of roads, railroad
grades, in irrigated agriculture—rushing
in the agency of rain, the quick flash
of its mating, awakening
the hatchlings. Only days
to compete with fairy shrimp. To evict
the mammal’s burrow. Only now—the human time—
to abrogate extinction
~~~~~
Kathleen Hellen is the author of The Only Country was the Color of My Skin, the award-winning collection Umberto’s Night, and two chapbooks, The Girl Who Loved Mothra and Pentimento. For more on Kathleen visit www.kathleenhellen.com.