flattened frog the silence of early morning
every five years
every cell in our bodies is replaced
you don’t need to know that
to know the love we made last night
is not the love we made a decade ago
is not the love we found that night
at the end of monsoon on a rooftop in Delhi
the macaques chattering in the trees
battered suitcase
the smoothness
of a worn handle
reassembled memories of the shrine
to the stillborn and aborted
make room in my heart for this
frog flat and sundried as leather
caught between a tire and the pavement
in the disappearing act of life
I take it by a leg and make it hop
like a shadow puppet across the sky
then toss it into the weeds
sunrise
the darkness fades
into birdsong
by Bob Lucky
Hangzhou, China
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