He lugged a white
five gallon bucket
with both hands
against his right thigh
water sloshed jeans
Inside swam
a large black tadpole
I told him to put it back
You told him to wait
You watched it swim
around and around
the bucket
around and around
your thoughts
Then you walked
him back to the pond
and slowly poured
the tadpole home
In bed I asked
what you saw
wondered why you stared
They’re so lucky you said
Who I asked
Frog parents you said
they get to watch their babies go from sperm and egg
to baby frogs
right in front
of their black
shinny eyes
…I only got to feel her
you said
as you put
your hand
on your belly
About the author:
Jason Fisk lives in Chicago-land with his wife, children, and dogs. He tries to find time to write between changing diapers and cleaning up dog poo. You can visit his website at www.jasonfisk.com.
