The Annual Frog Song

I want to get fucked in this swamp. I want you to gum bite my nape, wrap your long fingers around my tiny arms, and force my face into the mire while you mount me. I want to nod in and out of consciousness, gasping through glimpses of silhouetted cattails in midnight starlight. I want my family, friends, neighbors, and strangers—I want them all to watch you fuck me. I want them all as impassioned voyeurs, screaming “Fuck her! Fuck her!” until they sense you’re nearly finished using me, and then I want to hear them scream “Fuck me! Fuck me!” Uncles, cousins, strangers—I want to hear them erupt into violence as they make their way to me. I will float on an algae-dappled pond, basking in the splashing sounds of jostling and shoving, as the whole swamp moves toward my aching body.

I want them all. One by one. I will fuck them all. I want my body to shake all night with the reverberations of a thousand pent-up screams, and I want my core to jolt with every thrust. Pound me to oblivion. Let our screams echo for miles until the morning, until the frost. Before cold death takes me, slide out of me. Let me slink back beneath the filth of trash-littered mud banks. If I survive tomorrow day, fuck me again tomorrow night.

Translation:

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