The Crocodile Poem

The Crocodile Poem

Every week, on Friday evening,
Marta would have her gathering in the small room
In the town by the ocean,
And I as an inland stranger
Would arrive early,
Be seated in a folding chair,
Waiting for the invited poet to stand behind the lectern
And read a few poems, and receive some applause:
Poems not read loud or raucous, though often too sing song, I'd think,
And applause courteous, not shouts and whistles and standing
  ovations.
It was a terrible effort to make, so low key, so restrained,
And afterwards, after the invited poets,
The lectern was open to those who dared
Walk up and shuffle through their papers and read a poem or two
In a constrained time
As there were sometimes too many who would dare!
Enough, I thought,
And during one week,
Prepared to break through this orthodoxy,
And found a heavy rubber crocodile in the toy sections,
And thought it through...
"I will set you, toy,  at the foot of the folded chair seated audience's
   front feet,"
"And before you, toy, I will kneel"
"With one leg folded, knee on floor,"
"One leg folded, knee up,"
"One hand flat on floor,"
"And one hand turned down atop my head, "
"Sprinkling water that I had cupped from the stream before me,"
"The stream with the muddy bank where you rest sleepy,"
"The stream between you and me,"
"Crocodile!"


DolphinWords