The Amphibian Legacy
Meg Smith
Toads know, in their
pebbled skin, and golden eyes;
frogs know, in their
green translucence;
salamanders know, in their
blue skin, and soft fingers.
Their is to kettle everything —
the sad discharge of the plant across a bog;
languages that filter through
dust of an old atmosphere.
All this, they gather, in their bellies,
in their memory pool, and climb upward,
to warn, to bless, to bury
and build a new, unbroken place.
