I Hate Being A Frog Poem by James McLain

Lop hopsity is not a wall
of game.
It's fame lies in snakes to
weep wasted legs never if
caught.
Pads comfort ponds image
reflected back
face of gator eating a skipped
meal.
This misery sneezed out in
little popping noise
bladder balloons wingless hoping
last hopes in a tadpole vein.
Windfeldt prayers dislodge turtles
waiting for little legless bodies
floating down in
solaced embrace of trying again
when mum
offers caviar's last beating heart
more time..hopping for some to hop....