Once upon a time,
The old stories spoke
Of throwing the frog,
(Ingratiating helpmate
That he was),
Splat! against the wall.
Not nice, that.
Somewhere along the line,
The tale was changed
To kissing instead. Please.
Slimy and wet
With webbed fingers,
Rubbery lips and “ribbit” ?
I'm not entirely sure I'd
Call that better really.
But, kissing it is, these days.
So. We lean in close,
Eyes squeezed shut,
Lips trembling in
Breathless anticupation.
Poised on the edge
Of imminent transformation,
Or imagined bliss,
Time spirals down into
Sweet liminal moments
When infinite possibilities
And fairy tale endings
Sweep between
Our pressed-together mouths.
Donna Quattrone is a regular contribor to Cabinet des Fées. She writes mythic fiction and poetry, does Celtic artwork and is currently discovering that there is life after grad school. (UPENN) She is a native of Bucks County, PA and lives with two feline affection junkies and a multitude of books.
Image © Maxfield Parrish, detail from The Frog Prince