Sarah Carleton Tampa (Pamela Epps)
Back porch, black sky, bugs as big as tadpoles fly
close to one light bulb, flick and bap
to the pulse of pond frogs.
We lounge one step from underwater in this sub-sand
altitude where alligators stumble drunk
led by primordial memories of submerged land
and baffled to be breathing pure
so let’s acclimate ourselves to this place from the inside
out, get soused on margaritas and tea
till our heads swim--
let’s drink and dream until the walls bend, until catfish
weave through louver windows
until we grow gills.
- first published in Valparaiso Poetry Review (Spring/Summer 2021 (Vol. XXII, No. 2)