When Frogs Talk

When Frogs Talk

At night I heard the frog jump.
At first the noise puzzled me
Until light helped me locate the source
In the flat turquoise glass marbles
Scattered at the bottom of the fishbowl.
The frog leapt so hard
That its reverse trajectory slams it against the marbles
It’s unusual to hear so minute a crash of glass on glass
At 2 a.m.

What does the frog want?
Is it, like me, tired of living in its equivalent atmosphere?
Is it tired of being the body it was given?


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