I’m happy down here
in my warm dark pit
with the spiders and the woodlice.
I’ve met a toad.
We converse much.
I about the columns
of the Parthenon
and dining out in planes
above the clouds.
He about the quality of mud
and ways to catch a fly.
At night
he lies upon my breast
and both of us gaze upwards
at the pinpoint of gold
which must be Venus
but he says ‘No
it is the torch of God.’
‘How so? I ask.
He flicks his tongue
gulps. Replies
‘It is written in The Book of Toad.’
(c) Helen McKinlay
I wrote this poem a few years back. For me it’s about one of life’s pauses which bought with it a peaceful acceptance and new ways of seeing. And of course, catching flies! See below 🙂
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gurglewords 