Neil Burns


Soak


New Moon, New Moon
blue as the December bride;
blue in the face
thick shone about
a North-face-gable-wall.

In a nook in that very wall,
all well-wet: a frog gloating
in the rain-shod full night.
A glottal stop, a fat-plug-croak,
croaking out. A gulping sponge,
sploshed in his living nature.

Submitted: Friday, January 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, January 11, 2014
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