Comes to mind as another small <br /> upheaval <br />amongst the rubble. <br />His eye matches exactly the bubble <br />in my spirit-level. <br />I set aside hammer and chisel <br />and take him on the trowel. <br /> <br />The entire population of Ireland <br />springs from a pair left to stand <br />overnight in a pond <br />in the gardens of Trinity College, <br />two bottle of wine left there to chill <br />after the Act of Union. <br /> <br />There is, surely, in this story <br />a moral. A moral for our times. <br />What if I put him to my head <br />and squeezed it out of him, <br />like the juice of freshly squeezed limes, <br />or a lemon sorbet? <br /> <br /> <br />Anonymous submission.<br /><br />Paul Muldoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-frog-2/
