The poem is a list of odd facts about the snow flea, stacked one after another in a single long sentence that never quite finishes. Each stanza begins with "Which" or "Whose," so the tiny creature keeps being described but never actually arrives at a main verb. The title's "Like" hints that the snow flea is a comparison for something else, though the poem never says what. We are left to wonder whether the speaker means himself, or people in general.
The tone is deadpan and curious, with quiet jokes tucked in: the "frozen Serengeti of the woodlot," the fleas mistaken for "some other dark seasoning," the mating method that needs no contact. The speaker seems fond of this scrappy survivor, which jumps at random, sometimes lands where it began, and still carries on. The final line, "Which can walk on water," lands almost like a miracle, giving a humble speck a surprising dignity. The mood is wry, observant, and gently wondering.