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poem by Ruth Salles
Roll, roll, roll
well kept soldier
in the round fortress.
Swords everywhere.
Here it comes! Will it be an animal?
Will it be a thing? Will it be people?
Pincushion
with a muzzle in front.
'Slowly, leisurely,
carrying the toothpick.
– Run, run, grasshopper!
– Run, run, scarab!
– Run away, frog, run away, mouse,
run away, snake, run away, frog,
everything goes to the side,
if you don't want to be picked!
***
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