African Crocodiles
(A Prose Piece / Flash Fiction), Or I Wish This Were a Poem

On the riverbank, in the marsh, in the grass, and on the rocks,
lurks an insincere lizard.
There is nothing subtle about this puppy inhabiting the water.
It looks like the devil reincarnated,
Or, bits and pieces of Aunt Sylvia’s handbags,
Or Uncle Harold’s leather belts that have creased with age,
Or did they ripple before Aunt Mariam bought them at the flea market sale? Or was it a crocodile roast!

Is crocodile Pareve?

It was a very long, lazy lizard and very zany too.
Sly and slick as a snake, it plunged into the water.
Oy vey!
Thank G-d I was on the boat, in the middle of the vessel, far from the frantic body snatchers.

Crocodiles are nasty and mean, like Uncle Harvey. They have elongated jaws that will devour you.
Oh, my!
I have to speak to my doctor Dr. Kaplowitz about this. And, this is supposed to be a poem.

What do you expect?

A crocodile is a cold-blooded, hard-skinned, ugly lizard-like monster,

a big one at that, and not Kosher.

What is poetic about crocodiles?

They are just prehistoric wrinkled-up beasts.

They feed on prey that can’t swim, are weak,

and can’t make it across the river.

Sounds like New York,
but instead of the river, there is Queens Boulevard,

“The Boulevard of Death.”

I could go on and on and on…

Sorry, but I am still in therapy.

Oy! I think I just saw a crocodile meandering up Roosevelt Avenue.

Paper Clip Exchange – Strip #4

My poetry submissions were never returned
All I received back from an editor was a paper clip

I had the paper clip he sent me bronzed

It is now on display in a gold gilded fifteenth-century Baroque frame

Trapped between two acid-free pieces of glare-free Plexiglas

Secured on archivally matted board with beveled edges painted in pate-white

It now has submission powers

It serves to remind all who submit poetry that others came before

Others will come after
I may be rejected
I may only have a bronzed paper clip I may be accepted

Now before I submit, I think of trees I burn vanilla incense
Recite the rejection chant

…Thank you for showing an interest …Sorry, not quite right for us

…The submission period is between August first and November first

…Try us again

Please consider this poem for publication.

Ode to an Iris—A Spring Celestial Flower

She ordains a garden bed. Showy flapping pedals, majesty.

This Greek Goddess,
riding rainbows divinity in assorted colors,

She stands straight, thrusting tall, A Cathedral crowned beauty- elegantly she genuflects to Earth.