in the tiny black pupil of a frogspawn pearl.
It grew inside a jellied eye,
shuddering out a tail, feathered gills.
Dilating as it observed a dim world,
sucking in light like a vacuum.
Collapsing in on itself, reforming,
nudging through slime into water.
It swam, distilling oxygen
from the pond like an alchemist.
Conjuring itself four legs, feet.
Absorbing its tail.
Then it surfaced. Head plunging
into air, blinking, born again.
Flat ribbons of lung expanding;
breathing, for the very first time.
Rose Proudfoot is based in Manchester, UK. She has a BA in English Literature and Creative Writing from Lancaster University, her poetry has been published in Flash Literary Journal, Abridged, and she has poems forthcoming in Neon literary magazine. rose-proudfoot.co.uk