Boiling a Frog
It’s lovely here in the cauldron.
When the sun rose, I saw the water,
the blue green ripples, on the stove
leapt straight in.
Now I float on my back, inflate/deflate my belly.
I croak in Ribbet Ribbet glee.
Bubbles begin to rise
burst slow against my skin.
Actually it’s getting warm in here.
Relaxing, I suppose, but just a bit
uncomfortable and hot. Steam rises,
spirals into air.
I see a face appear, look down at me,
sharpen a knife, prepare to spear me
with a fork, slice me into
tasty well-cooked morsels.
Susan Castillo Street is a Louisiana expatriate and academic who lives in the Sussex countryside. She is Harriet Beecher Stowe Professor Emeritus, King’s College, University of London, and has published a book of poems titled The Candlewoman’s Trade (Diehard Press, 2003). Her second collection, Abiding Chemistry, is forthcoming later this spring from Aldrich Press. Her poems have appeared in The Missing Slate, The Stare’s Nest, Nutshells and Nuggets, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Snakeskin, Literature Today, York Mix), She is a member of three poetry groups, The Conduit Street Poets (London), 52, and Slant 2015.