Boston Review
CURRENT ISSUE
table of contents
FEATURES
new democracy forum
new fiction forum
poetry
fiction
film
archives
ABOUT US
masthead
mission
rave reviews
contests
writers’ guidelines
internships
advertising
SERVICES
bookstore locator
literary links
subscribe

 

Search this site or the web Powered by FreeFind


Site Web



 

Do Not Dive Head-First

Do not dive head-first in that puddle of mud.
Most people know a puddle's not so deep;
Wade, wade, slowly into the brackish crud.

Though mud is fine between the toes, the blood
Is best inside the body. I beg you keep
Your head. Don't dive into that puddle of mud.

Young children love a mess and if they should
Discover puddles in the mud, they'd leap
And not wade slowly in the brackish crud.

Dogs all clipped and groomed, who mostly would
Obey, keeping their tresses tidy, heap
Their bodies into any puddle of mud.

Cows are thinkers; in rain, they chew their cud,
Musing on this world, and seem to weep.
They wade slowly through the brackish crud.

And you, my friend, don't fret you're not a stud.
Looks, like puddles, only go so deep.
Do not dive head-first in that puddle of mud.
Wade, wade slowly into the brackish crud.

--Beth Gylys


Copyright Boston Review, 1993–2005. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.

 | home | new democracy forum | fiction, film, poetry | archives | masthead | subscribe |