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.
Sarah Carleton has had poems appear in numerous publications, including Cider Press Review, Nimrod, Chattahoochee Review, Tar River Poetry, Crab Orchard Review, and New Ohio Review. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was published by Kelsay Books.