Today's poem is by Elizabeth Robinson

Catastrophe Rhapsody
       

Frogs sing in the catastrophe, their
legs are ringlet-whorls of smoke

curling up from the bullseye, the what, the
charred hole.

They sing in the deluge.
They sing out at sea.

Our ears are insouciant.
Frogs, they are invisible to the eye,
but we hear them, gladly,

slightly. The frogs. Them. Who
treat our ears as a lost pond,

leaping in, sooty at the charred pits
of them, singing at the burst

tympanum. Inaudible splash.
Invisible.

Copyright © 2025 Elizabeth Robinson All rights reserved
from antiphony
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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