Get Up, We’re Going Home

by Ran Zhao

who told you to go crouch at the edge of the storm
drain the whole night, feed handfuls of yourself
to the rainwater? you’ve got a cold now, and your
clothes are drenched from last night’s storm, and
i have to climb down there and crawl in the mud
after the bullfrogs, reach into each of their pale
glowing moon-bellies and draw out the little giblets
of your heart. come on, let me dry you off. let me
walk you home in this red rain jacket i brought
when i went looking for you at dawn. next time
you’re on your own, okay? you know the rain
is just water. it has no secrets to give.