I’ve only heard them
in the reeds, the creak
of their gullets sometimes
high, sometimes low, always
loud and soft and near and far and
everywhere, out there
in the Georgia dusk
of my youth, summer, hot
earth cooling, softening
with nightdew and the frogs,
the frogs calling out for each other,
in desperate longing, their voices
rising together saying
here
here I am, where are you,
I love you, and me
and my childsized footprints in the dark
soil, the soft grass searching
for the hidden voices, so close I knew
I could reach out, touch one
catch one if I tried
and I tried
to hold my face close to the reeds,
the grass, the leaves, to follow
one single melody to its singular
croaky throat, sneak up, hone in
until the spot could be
nowhere else and when I reached
the spot the voice the frog
was always somewhere else
somewhere close
Sam Fiore is a 2nd year MFA candidate at Eastern Washington University and Fiction Editor for Willow Springs Books. Born and raised in Atlanta, GA, he previously lived and worked in Seattle, WA and Washington, D.C. before committing to pursue writing full time and ending up in an MFA program. When not sweating over the latest Willow Springs release, he spends his days trying to get his own novels published, poeting poetry, DJing at an extremely amateur level, and spending time with his wife, Gretchen, and their two cats, Mia and Voodoo. He has never seen a real-live frog in person.