by Rochelle Ratner
It seemed magical. The toads moved in the day he had the pond dug. Half an inch of water and half a dozen toads. He picked one up and stroked it. It wasn't more than two inches long – all he could imagine living in a pond that small. He went to wash the mud off his hands, and gave a sniff. He remembers it as well as the smell of his mother’s milk. He put a bit on his tongue. The hill behind his house seemed steeper. He could hear the wind. He hadn't even known there was a wind. Water filled the pond. Larger toads moved in. He tried licking different places, finally settled on the venom gland. Now it even tasted like mother’s milk.
Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Leads (Otoliths Press, 2007), Balancing Acts (Marsh Hawk Press, 2006), Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, 2006) and House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003). She is the author of fifteen previous poetry collections and two novels (Bobby’s Girl and The Lion’s Share) both published by Coffee House Press). More information and links to her writing on the Internet can be found on her homepage.
