by Holly Day
The voices of frogs are coming in through the air conditioner vents
so loud in the rain it sounds like they’re in here with us
perhaps hidden under the couch, or nestled a comforter
clustered in a group of bright skin and gold eyes
watching us from the candy dish on the coffee table.
If it were up to me, the sinks would be overflowing with tadpoles
water lilies would sprout in the toilet, goldfish and catfish
would twist and turn in the bathtub. I would welcome otters and long-necked cranes
to my bedroom, move furniture aside to make room for them all.
But I have been told I can’t do any of this.
The sparrows are chirping so loud in the bushes outside
it sounds like their voices are coming from inside the kitchen cupboards
that if I were to open the cabinet to get out a pot or pan
a flock of tiny brown birds would flutter out in dismay.
If it were up to me, finches could build nests in the rack meant for cookbooks
weave intricate baskets around the curtain rods for their young
fight for nesting rights in the breadbox, its bounty of stale bread
but I have been told that these things cannot happen
I have been told that this never will be.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing