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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Samantha

 

We sat in damp night grass and listened to the frogs

while everyone slept

inside their cabins,

dry and dead.

 

With flashlights ready, we’d try to catch their orgy

around the pool,

but always missed them

in the dark.

 

You huddled against me in the morning chill, no more

need for lamps

cutting through mist’s

private curtain.

 

I haven’t seen you in years, but I feel your nose against

the hinge in my jaw

even when frogs are buried deep                         

in solid winter mud.

 

—Brad Kavo