June
19, 1995
Frogs
by the hundreds belch lust
Into
the June night.
Their
croaking drowns
My
thoughts so that
I
am only muscle and bone
Holding
soft insides:
Lungs,
kidneys, liver, guts,
Shiny
parts working together
To
keep my heart beating.
I
watch this moist
And
glistening bag of organs
Moving
slowly
Soft
and vulnerable,
Like
frogs
Part
of the night air, the frog song,
The
ripening summer.