Frog Person

[the frog person

in frog costume

in the pond, almost dead:

now the leeches

leach the blood from  

frog person in bed

in the water

that is swampy

ever still and turning red.]

frog person: take everything from me--you were going to whether i said to or not. take this blood from me into your bastard sucking mouths.

ahhhh but don’t bite!

broken down like this and growing old, you see . . . you see? you suck.

well . . . i’ve had my affairs with flies and bugs,

they made damned good sustenance, ooooo.

and there was no better lover of pond scum and glitter,

of horny night dances than i was, little “ribbit” old me.

ouch! hey watch that!

. . . with fellow toads and bullfrogs

always the knee-jerk prancing  

above and under water

silly wonder we were so free  

and i, a hot one, had my specialties:

waiting undiscovered and knowing when to play leapfrog;

my long waxy gripper of a tongue,

slippery belly, thighs and my delightful ways with legs and eggs!  

for reflexes i was praised--called blessed, the best dressed,

you know--wasn’t wearing anything but what was around,

what this life afforded me

and i had my time to harvest flies, oh my,

i have also had little toys and favorite lily pads.

if i think now i re-drink the water

scuzzy but o . . .

ouch, aaaa--losing fucking blood.

i can’t fault you for doing what makes you a part of this world,

my precious little leeches

who, yourselves so young and fresh, have found me here, ancient,

broken down, but still alive for you to guzzle the blood of a life,

any old kind, any old life will do.

for living and killing in kind, . . . you would simply die if you found nothing, if you could not suck and fuck me over and get me bloodless (out of the picture, a picture ready for the next animals or plants to do their silly song and dance for the world that closes like an eyelid on eden. but of course you wouldn’t see it, sucking it dead with no eyes at all, i don’t know if you have any).  

to think in damned leeches is a dizziness--how you’ve caught on to me

is something of a mystery.

i fell in leapfrog, yes i did, am dying here and now

but just because i grow weak, depressed . . . .

i could leap two frogs but i am broken--

broke myself--

or otherwise you leeches suck me for nothing; nothing lonely is special,

but unto itself it is, it is, and to somebody else (as is obvious),

because you grabbed me

when i was down. you suck the life out . . .

ouch!

here it is, here it is.

bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble.