|
shortlisted,
Templar poetry pamphlet competition;
published
in Solitaire 2007 anthology, Templar Press
A Frog He Would
‘All I want is an
omelette,’ my father used to say
while
my mother was cooking a gourmet meal.
Psyllophryne
didactyla, the world’s smallest frog
hides
in debris on the forest floor in Brazil.
‘Nothing
you do surprises me,’ my father said,
which
is why I have never resisted a challenge.
I
have crouched in cold rushing water
to
catch the mating dance of a Hylodes asper
while
his future mate hops onto my leg
as
if it were a rock. I saw them jump
into
the water together, legs entwined,
to
reach their particular heaven.
According
to Aristophanes, frogs chorused like this:
Brekekekex
koax koax.
Their
mating songs specify what kind of animal
they
are, what kind of mate they are seeking —
just
like the personal ads. Females prefer big strong males
and
choose a bass rather than a tenor.
The
male midwife toad attracts the females
so
he can wear their strings of eggs like beads
in
a rosary, around his thighs and heels.
Before
my sister and I were born
our
parents would punt on the Thames,
its
soupy water running between my mother’s fingers.
Valerie Josephs
|
