Frog at Glenstone Pavilion

I am a small green frog

My eyes are gold and black, my spine iridescent

I live in the pavilions at Glenstone

In an atrium pond, enclosed by art galleries

 

I was sourced, like Goldsworthy collected hair

From Potomac barbershops, and clay from the creek,

Like the stone and wood used here to build Glenstone,

For authenticity

 

I live amongst blooming lilies, and fish

And I soak in sun on the concrete lip

There are others here but not my family

They were not captured when I was sourced

 

 

You most likely don’t wonder, but you might

Wonder if I notice my pond is square,

A most inorganic shape,

And bordered by concrete. I do.

 

And to see into infinity, as god’s creatures are meant to do,

I must look up. Looking out

Shows me glass and inside it objects and forms

That are not authentic to me

 

Why am I even here? I suppose its because

Some call me beautiful, perhaps elegant,

When a gallery-goer might spy me, perhaps

I give their eyes some pleasure, or maybe some rest

Image: Wallpaper Abyss by Couleur
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2 thoughts on “Frog at Glenstone Pavilion

  1. As I read your poem I couldn’t help but think “purpose”. We all serve a purpose but maybe don’t always realize what that purpose is. Even out of our element, we have a purpose. “When a gallery-goer might spy me, perhaps
    I give their eyes some pleasure, or maybe some rest” – purpose.

    Like

  2. Having visited Glenstone, a frog enclosed in the pond is definitely something to ponder and you did it so well. You capture so many of its thoughts. I espeically like the ending:
    When a gallery-goer might spy me, perhaps
    I give their eyes some pleasure, or maybe some rest

    As I do think that frong gave you some pleasure and a chance to rest from seeing the inorganic art.

    Reading your poem makes me want to visit Glenstone again!!
    Thanks for the reminder.

    Like

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