april showers
bring tens of tiny frogs
to a country road.
out late,
after rain,
walking the dog,
I witness them:
limb fragments,
gut goo, aftermath
of automobiles’
accidents. the dog
nuzzles her nose
in the wreckage.
choirs of spring peepers
mourn from the marshes.
solemnly
I spot an american toad, dead
center in the road,
yellow eyes beaming
in the glow of my headlamp.
I try
to chase him away,
nudge softly with a stick,
scare him to safety, &
so does the dog, in her way,
but he doesn’t budge,
so we trudge along,
defeated, hoping
he’ll come to his senses
& back away
from death’s door
by the time
we turn back.
for now, I fix my headlamp
to the gravel, careful not to step
on frog or toad or
salamander. so many more
show themselves: spring
peepers, northern leopards,
wood frogs— I’m no expert.
I look them up later,
match their faces
to a DEC pamphlet
to learn their names.
every last one stays put—
too scared or too stuck
in their ways to hop
out of harm’s way, caught up
in this game of frogger I know
they’re gonna lose, even
if they did invent it.
& I can’t help it, I’m
compelled to help, so,
I unravel a poop bag
from the pouch on the leash,
slide my fingers
inside, & offer up
a green plastic
helping hand.
scoop a peeper
on the tip of my finger,
gather up toads
like they’re turds.
ferry the frogs
across the street,
set them safely
on the other side.
hang out here,
little friend.
hide in the wet grass.
do what frogs do:
soak rain-dampened air
in your skin,
sing songs of changing seasons.
watch the world
with beady eyes.
I’m sorry
for scaring you. but
I couldn’t bear
the idea of driving
to work in the morning,
thinking of you
in my tire treads.
I know,
that’s more about me
than you.
I know
you probably wouldn’t be the first.
I know— I see—
there are plenty of you.
I know death comes fast
or slow
for you
& me alike.
I know my kind
commits worse crimes
than frog & toad
roadkill.
but it’s april,
& I’m desperate
for tenderness,
amphibian
or otherwise. here—
take my hand.
Sara Iacovelli is a poet and preschool teacher living amongst several species of frogs she continues to learn about in upstate NY. Her work has appeared in Milk Press, The Dawn Review, The Writer’s Foundry Review, Pine Hills Review, and others.