Aestivation

Yesterday, in the heat we parted
leafy clumps to pluck gleaming

fruit from the tree—and I will never 
get over how they ripen from stone-

green to fleshy pulp inside, despite 
our inconstant care: only this 

season's infrequent rains, somehow, 
have sustained them. When the wet

months begin in the Northern Territory, 
the water-holding frog digs itself out 

of the underground where it has kept
itself cocooned inside its skin for two,

even three, improbable years. In scarcity, 
the body learns to draw into itself and 

use the least amount of energy. Aboriginal 
peoples in the desert who know every part 

of a plant can be used—lilies and tubers, 
stalk and seed— have learned to drink 

water straight from the frog. In scarcity, 
the body is a divining rod tapping for

sustenance. But in scarcity, sometimes 
it feels incapable of giving up its last stores.