I don’t remember how I died.
Perhaps they gave me an injection,
soaked me in formaldehyde,
and placed me here for your inspection.
First, cut me open, note each gland,
and then begin your deep dissection.
Behold my heart, whose rooms expand,
contract, expand (when it’s not killed).
With research you will understand
that, when the pond becomes too chilled,
we start to hibernate. But shiver?
No, because our organs build
fat bodies when we’re in the river
preparing for the winter snow.
They lie below the gut and liver.
Observe my kidneys, get to know
my pancreas, my mesentery,
cloaca, spleen, and lungs. You’ll show
your newfound, wondrous, necessary
understanding to friends and kin—
a backpack filled with skills you’ll carry
to lake or bog when you begin
your job in science. By the way,
though dead, my organs, bones, and skin
forever will be on display
in labs online. Does anyone yearn
to carve more frogs up? I would say
most frogophiles would rather learn
how we glide through water, leap through fern,
or sing with turtle, toad, and tern.
_______
(Appeared in Umbrella)
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