2015 James “Jake” Cranage Poetry Award
African Dwarf Frog
by Sydney Doyle
At 5 a.m., a splash and a thud on the radiator
in the hallway I know is the frog,
escaped from the aquarium. It is the fourth time
this week our aquatic frog, coming up for air,
leapt too far, managing
to spring itself from the small opening
between the filter and the lid,
despite the screen laid over it.
I scoop up its struggling body and drop it
in the tank. My father watches from the kitchen
and tells me I should let it die already.
My mother shakes her head. The frog
wriggles one webbed foot. She pours
ground coffee. “A pet is a responsibility,”
she says. She slams the Folgers
lid on its container and looks at my father
who forgot to preset the machine last night.
I sit at the table but I want to go back to bed.
The room is silent, except for brewing coffee
and the tank filter, and then,
soft thumping of the frog against the screen,
almost tipping out.
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