A spotted bullfrog big as a rat crawled from the Hudson River,
hopped past a speeding yellow taxi, leapt on the sidewalk.
An old man muttered; a one-eyed dog sniffed the frog.

A lady wearing a flowered turban wheeled a squeaky cart.
A sapphire ring gleamed on her wedding ring finger; she screamed,
screamed when the bullfrog bared his teeth and chomped off the finger.

A sleek feline purred a greeting in Mandarin, but the frog fled
faster than ordinary frogs should hop, finally skidded to a stop
beside a neon sign: TAROT READINGS CHARMS CURSES.

A bored soothsayer sitting by the window took the sapphire ring,
listened to the frog’s sob story—sewer rats slaughtered his bride.
He wanted a new wife, so she wrapped the weeping frog in a tortilla.

An ordinary human cannot dislocate their jaws wide, wider,
but the soothsayer swallowed the wriggling frog in a single gulp.
Twenty-nine minutes later, a spotted moth flew from her mouth.

The moth sang a romantic ballad to a widowed mourning dove.
The strange couple wed, shared a nest in a cherry tree in Central Park.
When the dove was melancholy, the moth drank her tears.