I saw her pray to the burning trees & hungry frogs

throats open. Licking leaves. Ashing the sparkle.

Don't you remember what starless night smelt like?

Ten thousand crisp knuckles packaged under broiling critters

the children of petroleum & lighting fever.

It's our God, she said

It’s our God.

Begging my sister is like begging a stump: 

it won’t uproot if you scream at it.

Eldorado Forest winked, chuckled, spewed plumes of birds

Oh God, she whooped, why isn’t she coming out?!?

It’ll be okay Naomi it’ll be okay it’ll be okay

I held her baby-weathered hand & watched an accident ravage 

a bleeding heaven-scar straight through the canopy of 

mocking firs & crackling gooey frogs

they used to sing, now they bite their tongue & wait for nosediving flies.

Tell me that Placerville & Jackson & the Mother Lode liked haircuts.

They cozied the feeling

of lost dogs. Dead mothers.

Those little things left behind.

Tell me they’d look you in the eyes

six & a half & tear-drenched

& whisper

Remember, Mr. 

take some for the road.

Don’t tell anyone, but I squirmed when we prayed together

& took turns rolling in the grass, yapping

‘till the firemen schlepped us 

out of amphibian soup with a metal ladle.

The aluminum rungs kissed a bouncing siren.

Mama.

Wisp to Summer’s loaf.

Did you like feeling warm again?

Did you like it when

a house became an ember

& a dog was a star?

I know you miss her, 

but don’t worry, Naomi.

I’ll call the frogs to 

yodel again next year.