Incident on Route 20
a poem
I wrote this poem over the summer. Since then, I‘ve cannibalized it for other purposes. But instead of retiring the original completely, I thought I’d offer it up here as a reminder that global warming continues, even if it’s really goddamn cold in New England today.
Incident on Route 20 In this anxious midday heat, a shroud-white sky is blinding, final. We grip our wheels like lifelines, our panicky hands too tight, fists all knuckles, senses too dull to feel our way invisible—as a shadow appears in the light, someone bending low, a uniform stands in the middle lane lifting something fragile, a wood turtle who wandered into traffic with no one to stop him until the cars were hurtling over his shell. We watch his protector speed him to the shoulder, out of danger, and nestle his body in sand to breathe again, as the rest of us inch forward into the day’s fire, as the road seethes with the rage of the season, as fevered hours loom ahead for humans—a reprieve for the turtle alone. He seems relieved.
Luna speaks…
