Two Poems, by Sue Blaustein
Anthropomorphism
I think I know
what a cold frog thinks
so I put words
like I’m freezing
into his or her mouth.
I assume it’s cold
nearly to death
while maybe
it isn’t at all!
I think I know
what a cold frog wants.
Cold (and hot
and lukewarm) frogs surely
want the way I want.
So I hand out
antipathies and desires
to every frog I see.
I make them say
leave me alone!
Or shout I’m so
glad you’re here!
Who’d you vote for?
Where’d you buy those boots?
I wouldn’t be caught
dead wearing that!
The Green Swan
If the door
to this one-car garage is raised,
you’ll vanish.
You’re a painted swan,
olive green – spanning four
of seven panels.
Five stick-on letters
aligned by the lock spell “James”.
I’ll pretend he’s the one who painted you!
Why not?
He added reeds
to suggest a waterworld – yours, and his.
On a Saturday in May,
when it’s still cold before daylight,
my make-believe James
pulls up to the bait shop. He’s
going to Fremont for white bass,
maybe Beaver Dam for panfish.
James!
Go to Beaver Dam. See
the white pelicans.