little marsupials turn poisonous toads inside out
to eat them without dying
by Cecil Bothwell

Little marsupials turn poisonous toads inside out
to eat them
without dying.
The marsupials, that is, not the toads which do,
and surprised toads they must be!
Protected by their poisonous skin, hence unaccustomed to
such treacherous tricks.
They are cute.
The marsupials, that is, not the toads,
though the toads, one supposes, are cute enough to other toads
or, rather, whatever passes for cute among romantic amphibs.
Cute enough, that is, to attract, to lure,
to roll in slip slidery urgency, squirting eggs and milt
(but not poison)
into the seasonal puddle of their passion,
to mingle fluids in liquid abandon cohesing into languid lipoid tadpoles
soon enough transmorphed to poisonous toads,
soon enough transposed, transubstantiated,
dare I say it? Yes! Transmogrified!
Soon enough transmogrified, turned inside out and eaten by little marsupials
without dying.

Author's Note: The poem is a reflection on the relative value we place on non-human lives (and hence, on human ones as well). The first line was lifted verbatim from a popular science magazine.
    Cecil is a journalist, musician, painter and green builder. He has won regional and national awards for investigative journalism, humorous commentary, criticism and performance poetry.