Here is the latest installment of Poet’s Corner, presented by the Edmonds Poetry Group.

Frog Apocalypse

The constant croaking
vocal companion
praises rain
with a creaky latch of song
and the garden opens.

Garish water of offal leaves
where you camouflage yourself
and compose your music
responds with ringing circles
wide open over tadpole eggs.

I am here to destroy your Eden,
draining the water and shoveling muck.
I watch you hide or try to climb
the algae slick and vertical wall.
I make escape routes with my shovel.

There is no way to make this safe.
Either jump on or risk the edge
as dangerous as a blunt guillotine.
When you hop on and gently
gently rise on this impromptu

elevator – my heart lifts too.
Lifts a prayer for Gaza,
for all the immigrants
that you are joining
in search of safe ponds.

Kristina Stapleton

~ ~ ~ ~

And They Saw That It Was Good Humor

It was not a BIG BANG that made all things,
it was a roaring laugh that rolled out creation like a rug,
a hot laugh like the warble of mating raccoons,
the incessant giggle of rats that chuckle above our hearing.
Just knowing that rats think things are funny
makes me love them – a powerful Love that squelches distaste.

God releases their laughter into the universe
and a mighty funny fart erupts on the other end
of divinity. Gas formed for us to breathe
as we take it all in and explode with happiness
just to be Alive and Laughing like a rat
instead of the cold starlit expansion of a mind.

Kristina Stapleton

~ ~ ~ ~

Taking It From Here

The wind flapped his raincoat
like a crumpled birdwing,
the sidewalk showered with blood.
In his misery he could not rise
so, we lifted him to upright
from the cement like an empty bag.

He had tripped hard to the face
holding his broken dental plate
one half in each hand
while blood rained down
and the sirens approach.

Brawny EMTs open their boxes.
Chad is 72 years old, a tottering
old man two years younger than me.
His tweed hat has a peace sign pin.
His vest is now polka dotted with red.

The fireman asks if we are related,
but I am just a passing stranger.
He touches my arm gently
“We’ll take it from here”.
I walk away, but in the coffee shop I cry.

Kristina Stapleton

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kristina Stapleton was born in Seattle and has lived in Edmonds since 2018. Although she has been published and won some awards, her main reason for writing is pleasure. Turning little pieces of real life into snatches of poetry make living more intense and meaningful. Not worth doing, if we aren’t having fun, right?