The Mailbox
I tickle the thick blue ogre
under the chin until
he opens his mouth.
I slip the treat
onto his tongue,
careful
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
I guess you can write a poem about anything. I never would have thought to write a poem about a mailbox. Cute.
Ha! Very nice, Liz. I’m always careful not to let him bite my fingers as well and the book drop at the library is even worse!
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.)
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!
How fun! Your challenge to yourself to write about ordinary things is inspiring me to look at things in a fresh way.
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? 🙂
Ha! Personifying a mailbox with an ogre – who da thunk? Liz, of course. Clever poem. = )