murky waters conceal
lime green frogs
this place alleviates
my throbbing knees from falling from the willow tree, this morning
rain dances off the tin roof, one last homage to the sky above my hand emerges
holding something sticky and warm,
it peers through my fingers with its bulging eyes and tries to escape my grip
with a fearsome leap
i’m sure i named it something
i can’t remember what
now
there’s a polaroid photograph of my sister and i on the porch with the wild animal
i wonder
if i’d still set it free
in the distance
i hear tires grip
the gravel
it sends a cloud
of smoke my way
anger is the name
of my father
Kara Beechler is a lifelong lover of words, and frogs. She used to catch them in ponds near her home in the mountains of Tennessee and eventually learned that letting them hop free is a better option. You can find her on Instagram @karabeechler.