Two Poems by Susan Jarvis Bryant

Corpseville

a twisted villanelle

In twilight’s glow you’ll know you’re not alone.
You’ll hear their whispers rasping in your ear.
They’ll burrow through the marrow of your bone.

They’ll reap the seeds their cunning kin have sown-–
A harvest that would make a demon cheer.
In twilight’s glow you’ll know you’re not alone.

They’ll bask in every gibbous-moon-soaked groan
That rumbles through the eerie atmosphere.
They’ll burrow through the marrow of your bone.

Your dreams will shudder with their ghostly drone.
Your skull will crawl with thoughts no heart can bear.
In twilight’s glow you’ll know you’re not alone.

Befouled with gore they’ll draw a ghastly moan.
They’ll bore beneath your skin and raise your hair.
They’ll burrow through the marrow of your bone.

Soon mini ghouls will roam your twilight zone
To trick or treat as grinning pumpkins stare.
Shrug off your shroud. Don’t rot at home alone.
Creep from your crypt and throw those imps a bone.

Toad Ode

O, warty dweller of the weedy pond,
O, cauldron-dodging lodger of the lake,
My happy-ending heart has grown so fond
Of craggy clamminess, I plan to take
An algae night to swim in bulgy eyes
While basking in the choruses you croak.
If pussycats and owls can dine on quince
And float their pea-green boats to heaven highs,
Then I can plant a wince-free kiss to smoke
Your chilly lips and free your inner prince.
–
I’ve met a ton of toads, but none like you,
O, legend of the frilly lily pad.
They wowed and wooed and cooed and left me blue—
All armed with charm that hid a tad of cad.
Each peachy paramour assailed my eye
With weapons of the flash and dashing kind—
A scorching thrust of lust that left love dead.
And that, O, dumpy, dimply one, is why
My inner princess surfaced just to find …
You … the toad I’m owed … the prince I’ll wed.
–
Oh dear, I fear my awestruck heart’s forsaken.
I’ve puckered up with pluck and now it seems
I’m out of luck; your inner prince won’t waken—
A snoring schmuck has dashed my princess dreams.
O, crinkled critter of the realm of reeds,
O, soggy squatter of the swampy sphere,
I’ve snogged you at the bottom of your bog
Yet you can’t meet my doleful-damsel needs.
I now assume a suitor won’t appear
Unless I slip your grip and kiss a frog.

“Toad Ode” originally appeared in the New English Review.

Susan Jarvis Bryant is originally from England and now lives on the coastal plains of Texas. She has poetry published in a variety of places. Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition and was nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize.