SHOE GATE

Ken Pobo



By the gray sole of Stan’s shoe,
a green daffodil rehearses
the Wizard of Oz scene where
the munchkins all come out,

come out, wherever you are,
will probably win a Tony
as all dafs do in April. His

work shoes—tied loops,
like a sinking race track.
No longer trudging to his cubicle,
his shoe a gate spring

flings open. Bulb shoots follow,
slip through.