toads

that summer was the last time
my lungs filled with coins.
i walked early in the morning
with no teeth at all.
lied to my mom uselessly that
i was going to church.
i looked up nearby catholic churches.
saint olivia's. once, i walked there
in the middle of the night.
considered what i would want
for worship. i did not believe in god
but i wanted to. wanted his thumb
pressing down on the roof.
i walked to the crooked neck
of the gushing creek.
rows of homes touched the thin forest.
i tried to find a house to imagine 
a life inside. my favorite 
was the one with the windchime colony.
all those throats. by ripe july,
i went looking for a family.
my dad had just turned into 
a pile of stones. i picked 
the stones up & hurled them one 
by one at the moon.
in the dirt, i found a toad & then
another. two little sets of eyes. i asked them
"would you like to be my organs?"
they said, "no, we prefer it here."
"if you come with me, i will sing
to you every moment of every day,"
i promised, knowing i would not
be able to keep it. 
they agreed & i sung 
all the way back to my dorm.
i tried, i really did. fed them crickets 
& my eyelids. told them everything
about gender & how it was killing me.
they would demand, "sing"
& so i would try
until my voice turned to sand
& despite all the stones,
the moon was still as loud
as a car horn in the window. 
i took them back when i knew
i had nothing left for them.
their eyes rang, golden bells.
my face floated in the creek,
a murky portrait 
of a diminishing girl.