Taylor Graham
Skunk Lady

Nocturnal, crepuscular,
faint odor of disrepute
in broad daylight down
the straight-line sidewalk
from den behind the quick-
stop past one-star motels
fast-food dumpsters past
the marble courthouse
headed where? Don't ask.
In thriftstore black all-
weather coat, long scarf
once white wrapped
at the collar trailing
down the back. Neighbor
dogs don't faze her, kids
calling names. Without
a word she says
if pressed Don't mess
with me.