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Poor Frog by Hal Sirowitz

We dissected a frog in biology class.
All I remember was the smell of formaldehyde
and feeling sorry for the poor frog who gave up
his life, so I’d understand the difference
between arteries and veins. One looked
blue, because it was carrying oxygenated blood.
And the other looked red. But when they both
contained formaldehyde they looked
the same. I had to make it up to the frog.
Otherwise, he’d have died in vain. So
instead of disposing him in the basket
with the other frogs, I slipped him
into my pocket, so I could give him a funeral.
He wouldn’t be just representing himself
in the grave but all frogs who gave their lives
to science. Later, I had the opportunity
of donating my organs to science. I
passed up the chance. I didn’t want
my kidney anywhere near formaldehyde.


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