Sheffield, is this my lump sum?
A pond frogspawn clogged
A water’s surface that had once been live
With squat squirming intentions
Fat arms tight-ballooned with clinging
An orgy of multiplying
Fleshy lifeboats inflated with
The resolve of toddler fists and gums.
What eats frogspawn?
What parasite cataracts its
Gelatin shells to squeeze free from.
How do I crawl out of a place?
All these benches my-body-sized
With strangers’ names
I just want to make like a snowdrop
And lose my head to the earth.
I left the window above my sleeping head open
For my night terrors
To escape into your fenced perimeters
and settle at the fountain’s stone base
Under all that dropped copper.
Or to wash up like tree-stumps,
by many-gilled fungus
They still skulk as darkness
Under the hedges
Where the mice can grip the pips
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