It’s a black wet night.
Even leeches are vertical-poised, waiting.
Dogs are restless.
I am wide-awake
ensnared between worlds.
My loneliness hears human
voices in the riotous frog gossip.
I’m straining to hear,
through the impassable night’s arc,
The solemn deluge will not take a breath.
The creeks are escaping like terrified murderers.
I have just enough blood on my hands to jump in
and join the flash floods’ furious call to self-harm.
Standing knee deep in the weight of the rapids,
drenched beneath my skin,
the screech-pitch of turbo clicking cicadas,
I hone into the frogs’ emerging mantra.
There is a voice,
It says over and over
I belong I belong I belong I belong I belong I belong