‘A Box of Frogs’ by Stephanie Conn

Here are the frogs in their carved box,
gathered from four corners of the globe,
croaking close to my ear on the night stand.
Don’t believe the facts; they come alive at dark.

The poison dart with its striking greens and reds
to warn off predators, give them half a chance
on the rainforest floor but I am colour blind;
ticking photogenic bombs, small as a thumb.

And the Tomato Frog of Madagascar – a shock
of crimson secreting toxic gum to make the eyes
smart and sting and close, enable a masked escape;
bounding blood-red drops against dull bark.

And the Glass Frog with its translucent skin;
a window to the pulsing lungs, the beating heart,
the see-through film that helps it blend in.
My opaque brand blends too, grows numb.

And the turtle frog with its short, flat limbs,
its beady eyes and blunt snout, feeding
on termites, having burrowed into their hills,
then giving birth to fully formed young.

To live, they must keep close to the mind’s lake,
absorb my body’s moisture. My tear-ducts
are drying out, my skin is puffing up in arid rifts.
The fat frogs spring to slap their skulls off the lid.

From issue #6: spring/summer 2018

About the Author
Stephanie Conn’s first collection, The Woman on the Other Side (Doire Press), was shortlisted for the Shine/Strong Award for best first collection. Her pamphlet Copeland’s Daughter (Smith/Doorstep) won the Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition and is published by Smith/Doorstep. Her latest collection, Island, was published by Doire Press in 2018.