Self-portrait as a Dissected Frog

On Thursday / in the biology lab / the first thing we all noticed / was the smell.

On Thursday / in the biology lab / the first thing
we all noticed / was the smell. Then, as our eyes
/ adjusted to the dim coolness of the room, we saw it /
as it lay at the end of the long centre island, belly-up
/ split open like palms / in prayer. And the boy,
a senior by the looks—grazed beard, dark moustache,
strong arms—stood above it, the knife / glinting
from the tubelight above. The teacher told us /
not to look, to let the senior / wound it further.
We were instructed / to pay attention to the lizards,
the snakes, the birds, the butterflies in piss-coloured
glasses. And though / all of us turned, because
who would want / to watch / the body being laid open
/ so mercilessly / in the open? But I did watch.
I was jealous / of the frog and of its proximity
to that boy. Remember, I was fourteen and discovering
/ love. As he bent / further to look, the knife / parting
the green flesh, I never wanted to be anything
/ but that frog. I desired / not the violence
but the deftness / of hands—the boy and his knife
against my body—to be worthy / to have him /
place his ears / and listen / to the secrets
the body has been guarding / so tirelessly ever since.

About the author

Ashish Kumar Singh (he/him) is a queer Indian poet with a Master's Degree in English Literature from the University of Lucknow. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poetry Wales, Frontier Poetry, The Bombay Literary Magazine, Fourteen Poems, The Texas Review, Atlanta Review, Foglifter Press, Diode Journal, and elsewhere. Currently, he lives in his hometown of Amethi, Uttar Pradesh, where he teaches English to high schoolers.