And I Am Made Small
A toad capping the stone
beneath the birdbath like a verdant
dollop of cream fails to share its name.
Its eyes, bubbles within bubbles,
fix on something above me:
black ant scaling the house’s shingles,
thin branch bobbing, having released
its burden-sparrow. A toad turns
from me into the weed –
the thin line of its mouth,
its skin speckled like stone.
For the first time today, I am alone.
© S Thomas Summers
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Q&A
Q: How do you define poetry?
A: Poetry is a process: looking, seeking, wondering, feeling, discovering, losing, tasting, sweating…it allows me to develop a keener appreciation of breath. The more I experience, the more I witness, the more I write. As I write, I experience and witness more. It’s a cycle I never hope to escape.
Q: Tell us something about yourself that not many people know about you.
A: Often, I daydream that I am Superman. Clouds taste good. I also hope that my students’ children might one day write a research paper on the poetry of S. Thomas Summers. Ever hear of him?
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Toad by Jen Pezzo
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