On our way to the grocer’s
We happened upon
A snapping turtle. He lay
In the middle of the road
Immobilized by the sun,
Not able to turn
Back to the curb,
Back to his molten pond.
His barbed mouth
Parted as we neared.
A black tongue
Did not pant or bark.
Only a hiss
Issued from the shell of him:
An Egyptian curse
Released from a pried tomb
Without clasps
Or locks to pick, nor booby traps.
His forehead
Never mirrored
The heat and his stomach
Never sighed.
He lay ready to exert
A century of effort into one step,
His elephantine legs
Buried to the knees in gravel,
His brontosauric tail
Susurrating behind.
Comments