Salamanders: Four Simple Images

 by Mike Smetzer

**************

Salamanders

When I was twelve, I caught a spotted salamander

      in the yard

and took him in a jar to school.

When I appeared with him in science class,

the teacher stood above me at a loss,

“Why did you bring it here?  We’ve all seen

      salamanders.”

This hadn’t occurred to me.

Because it delighted me to have caught him,

I brought him.

**************

The Whistle

I could never whistle when I

     was a boy.

Once, while I was sitting

     at my desk

absently forcing air through

my lips,

a beautiful whistle shredded

     the class.

The teacher turned from the

     blackboard

like a startled Day of Judgment.

When the bell rang she lined us

     up at the door

and demanded of each –

                 “DID

                   YOU

                   WHISTLE

                   ?”

“i don’t even know how,” i

     pleaded.

I still can’t.

**************

On Becoming Twelve

On becoming twelve, I melted down

            my crayons into wax

and lit them as rude candles in my

            room.

I watched their sooty struggle

till the pigment choked their flames

and one by one their little lights

            went out.

**************

Plants for Your Window

I had a friend got busted

growing tomato sprouts on his

     sill.

Eight policemen broke the door

and carried plants and him

     away.

Then in a cushion they found

his secret stash.

He should have grown

philodendrons.

**************

(These poems were originally published in Cottonwood Review and later included in a slightly different version in the chapbook A Quiet Man from Baggeboda Press.)

 Copyright 2010 by Michael Smetzer