I never thought it would be the last
time I saw him.
I never thought to pet his head.
I never thought to set him on our bridge and set a cherry tomato in his line
of view, in case he needed a bite or two before his journey.
By the way, he’s named after the ninja.
The only thing I’ve learned about turtles is
they hold no loyalty.
*
Whenever at my grandfather’s cabin,
I take a wander on my own.
The small, light, walking type
down to our little pond to sit on the bridge.
The patch of sunlight over it is a dream.
A dream of the years’ old, bright red paint glittering.
One day I saw a deep,
deep green, softball sized circle gliding
toward my dangling boy feet.
I bolted up cement stairs
to tell Grandpa of the circle.
He nabbed Mikey just for me.
*
We fell in love over a pile of aspen leaves
but I told him I wasn’t hungry.
He met aspen the same day he met me.
I didn’t realize he was planning an escape with each little
bite from the elevated bridge.
He’ll be a ninja when he grows up, I’d say,
after I teach him how to hyahh!
I trotted back down from snack time
to check on him with goldfish in hand
and found an empty bridge frowning.
—
Austin Smith is a freshman at Rocky Mountain College in his hometown, Billings, Montana.
The Zingara Project 