Frogs

Why does late January

feel like an early spring?

Why does this tightrope 

feel more like a string?

The frozen frogs

are thawing and

clawing their way

outta the dirt,

I cut an inch

off my hair

and showed up

to work. 

I told them it’s

none of their business 

but they don’t understand,

she told me leaving is sinnin’

so I guess I’m damned. 

I don’t know what

I did, or who’s to blame,

take the portrait down

and erase my name. 

I’m quick on my feet

but not always the

first one to stand,

but they know time is nothing

when you’re killing a man.

Four years gone and I’m 

still looking to land.

Maybe two is more

than one in the hand. 

I don’t wanna be a 

martyr or even a king—

leaving is something 

But it’s not the only thing.

I go out and try 

to drown the noise,

but the frogs

keep croaking

and they don’t

give a damn. 

I try not to listen 

or let it get under my skin,

but I left the door open

and the frogs got in. 

It was too hot for

a winter freeze 

when the world burned 

down with sickening ease… 

Now I know

there ain’t anyone

in this world that

you can please. 

I was ready to leave,

to get up and get out,

Mama was filled with love,

and filled with doubt.

She said, “there ain’t 

anything in this world

that ain’t in this town.”

Daddy keeps saying 

that we got scammed,

the frogs keep croaking,

and they don’t give a damn.

There ain’t anything

holy in this holy land. 

I try not to listen 

or let it get under my skin,

but I left the door open

and the frogs got in.