and in the shop…
“Gardening With Deer”
“The Shadow House”
“The Third Day: Landscape and the Word”
“The Rocking Stone”
Poetry Wales Press
Kathy Miles won the Bridport Prize in 2015
and the PENfro Poetry Competition in 2016
The frog was quiet that evening.
He’d hitch-hiked through her lips a week ago.
Lazing on the lawn, sun slick on her skin
and the long brown sunbathe of her hips,
she yawned for a fateful, life-changing second,
and he’d slipped inside the warm nest of her mouth.
She tried everything. Garlic, lighting up a fag,
the hottest chillies on the Scoville scale.
All to no avail. He hiccupped a little
at Scotch bonnet, paused for a minute
at fiery curry, burped at biryani and vindaloo.
When she cleaned her teeth each day
his green skin gleamed in the bathroom light
as he hopped from wisdom to incisor,
poked her roots, gouged her fillings,
spat out Colgate with an outraged croak.
He was afraid of tumbling down
the long red swallow of her throat.
She felt him grip her tonsils
with his tiny slime of hands, stretch
in the moistened hollow of her cheek.
Now there is spawn beneath her tongue,
a female frog in her palate. Dawn brings
the wriggle of tadpoles, the long webbed
span of feet between her teeth, an army
of baby princes hopping along her gums.