Simon Wilson

Dream of a Distant Frog

The returned poem lies amongst my emails, and, when opened, reveals a network of comments in red print. A school biology class, and a dissected frog, spring to mind. The poem and the frog swap in my head. Something that once jumped in a pond and inspired a poem, lies in my memories, pinned open, flat, and dead. The words, dismantled, no longer hold their former spark.

words lie on the page
like a puppet with cut strings
but the frog
is not the worst thing
I have killed

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About the Author

Simon Wilson has been a poultry farmer, salesman, antique dealer, gardener, and instructor on a Care Farm. He now works in a coin shop and wishes he had tried harder at school.