The Red Toad

The Red Toad


One morning in a girl's bed,
a red toad, a lump, hopped
right into her lap.
She felt sorry for it--
helpless, bubbly, ugly,
yet hinting of transformation.
She's no fool,
she senses the myths
at work in the life.

She puts the creature to her breast.
In a while it smiles up at her--
then she is caught,
she feels a catch;
the red lump latched in her chest.

She knows what it is they won't tell us,
how we are born women without hearts,
born only the body
that will go on making other bodies
until blood and muscle
become spirit within it.

And we too must trust transformation,
know it is our only story--
we are sea fissures that suffer change,
lava caves, vats to cast raw materials,
that cast up treasures in forms
smooth and glowing as red gold.


Heid E. Erdrich......from The Mother's Tongue