from 'The Torment'
At that moment, little Catherine came skipping up the driveway, singing to herself. The pleats of her blue, plaid skirt swung about her knees and she wore a bulky white sweater. With every other step, she clapped her hands in front of her. She was home from cheerleading practice and wssn't ready to quit. Most of her attention was focused on avoiding ruts in the driveway. After it rained, the driveway became muddy and impressionable. A truck's tires threw the mud up into high, red ridges, which 'froze' when baked by the sun, creating the deep, water-filled ruts that Catherine studied to avoid. A bad rut could turn your ankle. But she was not too busy avoiding ruts not to hear the truck door bang shut, or to sense the air of mischief overhanging the scene, ahead. From fifty feet off she saw her little brother, his hands behind his back, square to her. One hand gripped the webbed feet of a very large, dead bullfrog. She could see the horrible whiteness of the frog's legs. Bullfrogs she....
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Comments about this poem (from 'The Torment' by Morgan Michaels )
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