Get Your Premium Membership

Three Turtle Songs

Turtle by the Door The bears and wolves are few; one threadbare widow mourning, two grays as consumptive as smoke. The large dwindle, their bodies grow more awkward, more at odds. The heavier beast's sway like drunks in the scant woods. Under a pelting dark they come. Beneath a stabbing ice, one by one- the animals. I listen to their shuffling, the scrape of delving claws. They are scavenging, pulled closer to me by visceral prods. Hesitant paws withdraw as they near, a restlessness keeps them gnawing a middle ground. I crane my neck from its ribcage; they fall back and return, wanting - always wanting. The small creatures enter where cracks fill with moonlight. They scuttle and hesitate, a little way, a little. I am Turtle, a makeshift thing, cloud-splashed and sullied. I sing back the needy shadows, cast my lamplight eyes onto their weltered hair-streaked hides. ~~~ Turtle Speaks I did not bundle this day’s flesh, nor did I carry it to a pathless end. I merely watched it pass over black mountains, slip away over thinning trails. The sky-tent will catch fire again. I am a roughhewn turtle. I am starlight in a mud-pool. A blind faced mole has carried the moon up from the dirt once more, though it is only a white bone, only a hollow tooth. Turtle am I, an unwrought creator; one who watches, who knows not to say what cannot be said. ~~ Turtle Goes to the Light Turtle's carcass is nibbled into threads of brown river water. His empty shell tumbles lazily in slow currents. Turtle stays where the starry mammoths beat sunlight into skin and bone, and he waits. Mole, beaver, and badger heap the dead upward until light licks them away. The world feeds upon itself, time weaves new moth wings from long buried evenings. Then turtle reappears. He hatches from an egg pushed through green sludge and marsh fire, he returns as a burnt shadow. Turtle's leathery tongue clacks he calls to all the blood-filled: “Come again, come around and around” he calls. When his song is done he perches on a scorched log in the middle of everywhere as silent as a stone.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 8/2/2019 12:23:00 PM
Thanks for the positive feedback Tammana.
Login to Reply
Date: 8/2/2019 11:54:00 AM
Very optimistic " sound " in the poem also. Better off that way. Best wishes. Tamanna
Login to Reply
Date: 7/31/2019 4:28:00 AM
Eric, there is something absolutely Native American about this poem that delights a part of my soul I did not even know was there! Wow! I am dashing back for a second read.
Login to Reply
Ashford Avatar
Eric Ashford
Date: 7/31/2019 10:26:00 AM
Very much obliged for the read Caren, I consider this work a part of my modest magnum opus! Yes, it is loosely based on the Native American Turtle Legends, but as I wrote it, it went (as so often happens), on its own strange path. Not any easy read, so I am very pleased to get your perceptive feedback.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things