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My Mother's Turtle

My Mother's Turtle

My Mother’s Turtle

A Poem by Michael Schussler

I’ll take care of him

I told my mother

As our withering hands made the exchange

A passing of the torch of sorts

Her beast becoming mine


Feed him, clean him, make sure he doesn’t die

He has no hope without your eye


I want to crack him open 

And peel him from his cozy world 

Slice his scaly legs and serve him in soup

So that I may survive inside his shell

And when anxiety overwhelms me

I’ll withdraw myself from the world and all

Until the day

Calvin Candie calls 

To examine the dimples in my skull

A Shell in a Minor Key

A Shell in a Minor Key

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