Young is the cacophony of frogs
chiming that night has come
The insects ripe on our tongues
The meaning of tire tracks sighing away from us
Until there was only the I, childhood
Was a lonely time. My children don’t know this:
As the proprietor of that disorganized song’s
Regular return to memory, like an interaction
The true lesson of which remains elusive,
Turning off the highway for two days
Alone, well deserved, have you
Just wanted to sit in a room
And enjoy nothing but song? When
I emerge I expect to be unburdened.
You know it, as it belongs to you, like we all
Belong to burden. When morning arrives
On the first day I can see
The pepper tree twice it’s size since then.
Landmark that speaks in browns and jags. My aging body
A topography of the same gully. I’ve never
In my years of traipsing this creek
Seen one frog alive but
Every night they hung the air
Their dream language: signal
With nothing to signal, a growing child, meaning
Continuously encountering itself. Some people
See a song as color
Others call this a disease
We can briefly accept our weaknesses.
Alex Rieser (he/him) is a Jewish-American poet and Audiologist who holds an MFA from the University of San Francisco. He is the author of the chapbook Emancipator (New Fraktur Press, 2011) and has internationally published poetry, fiction, and literary criticism. His works have appeared most recently at The Poetry Foundation, Your Impossible Voice, Ploughshares, and others. More on Twitter @AlexRieser.