Said to live in the woods of Michigan, the Squonk is always crying because of its hideous appearance. At least, according to humans.
I know that you think
I’m ashamed of the way I look.
Every time you see me, I seem to be dissolving into tears.
“And after all,” you suppose,
“Who wouldn’t cry if they looked like that?
I mean, just look the state of it:
Horrible, warty and wrinkly skin.
Shambling through the forest
Sobbing away.
Poor thing probably stopped to drink at a pond,
Caught a glimpse of itself
And now look at it, just inconsolable.
Poor little squonk!
It must be terrible to look like that.”
But you only see me crying
Because I’m only crying when I see you.
I try to hold it together but
Oh god, it’s so sad!
I mean, just look at you!
That slippery smooth surface
Hardly a hair or a wart to break it up
Just that weird little tuft at the top.
So freakishly stretched out,
Like a pig who wants to be a tree!
And the wide goggle eyes,
Worst of all, you can’t even see
How hideous you look.
It just gets to me, you know?
I’m sorry, I’m off again…
Poor little human!
It must be terrible, to look like you!
Tom Juniper Poetry 