The Mailbox

photo-270 - Version 2















I tickle the thick blue ogre
under the chin until
he opens his mouth.
I slip the treat
onto his tongue,
not to let him
bite my fingers.
He swallows it whole.
I can’t see it anymore,
but I know it’s there,
sitting in his stomach
with the rest
of his lunch.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

7 replies
  1. Michelle Heidenrich Barnes says:

    Oh thank you for giving me a second chance to read this, Liz! If I never think of a mailbox in the same way again, I will have you to thank. And thank you, I will… again and again. (Regurgitated lunch letters….mmmmmm.)

  2. Linda Baie says:

    Love this Liz. I have to tell you that having young children in my life again is a way to experience things all over again. I know, not a new thought, but it is fun. My oldest has lately been pleased to learn she is now tall enough to pull that door, and then after giving it its ‘lunch’, loves the big noise it makes. Now I’ll have to tell her about your poem imagining that it’s being fed!

  3. maryleehahn says:

    What Violet said! Love this big blue ogre! I’ll never look at one (or a group of them — a family?) in the same way. That’s exactly what poetry should do, eh? 🙂

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