The Last Rabbs’ Fringed Limbed Treefrog


Is a hero. In his dreams

he glides across the  rainforest canopy

where he rules the skies and the world

of leaf-shaped and perpetual twilight

and earth-scented incense.

When it rains here, gems tumble down

and golden pools open on the ground

like secret doorways.


*Sitting silent on a single log,

he is a hero. He has drawn the sum

of all your loneliness into his jeweled head.

He bears your secret fear

of being the last of your kind

left at the end of this world, or your own.

His throat has taken the stone that lodges

In your throat when you are finally certain

that the voice you long for

will never answer.


Most of all, in the enduring

of days and nights that meld together,

he knows, as we dread, that

when his last light blinks out,

none will mourn him or remember

that once when he lived

he was king of his world.


Written by Moira Ong



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