Somewhere this dusk

a girl puckers her mouth

and considers kissing the toad a boy has plucked

from the cornfield and hands

her with both hands;

rough and lichenous but for the immense ivory belly,

like those old entrepreneurs

sprawling on Mediterranean beaches,

with popped eyes,

it watches the girl who might kiss it,

pisses, quakes, tries

to make its smile wider:

to love on, oh yes, to love on.  –Galway Kinnell