Night falls.
The air is stagnant
soaked with white gardenia,
pungent stephanotis.
A thin stream of water fountains
into a koi pond,
echoing across the valley.
At the blue hour
A poisonous toad army advances
each soldier to a predetermined post.
Tens of thousands hop down roads,
linger beneath streetlamps
Others lurk in the hollow of a palm
hundreds more
beneath the blue bug light by the well
their hungry eyes focused
tongues trigger ready.
Fixed as seventy thousand kamikaze termites
hit the bug light in reckless abandon.
Their muggy flight pre-empted.
The toad commanders continue to peer skyward as
The Formosan swarm is zapped
staring as wings snap and sizzle,
bodies plummet down, as dinner is served.
The feast is a fevered affair.
A rare few are pardoned.
As some manage
quick goodbyes to loved ones
Others attempt to forestall their toad dinner dates
by crawling wingless
behind downspouts and
into rocky crevices.
Meanwhile
An unfortunate toad is squashed
beneath the feet of a foreign genus
racing inside to escape the carnage
the rank and lusty, slurping and spewing
of the hoard.
2/11/26
Corney Press 