Mary Birnbaum – And a Plague of Frogs

And a Plague of Frogs I am waiting for the drums of August, the riptides, the mad funnels, the gas-blue flame over the city’s complacent haze, people wading chest deep in turbulence, the trial and sentence of hailstones, torrents. There’s no chaste-gowned hymn for mercy. Power struts in every eyeful. No counter-arguments heard. No incantations. […]