Thursday Morning Garbage Pick Up
I’m barefoot in the street
again chasing the truck
with black plastic bags
in hand though this time
something smooth & partitioned
under the leaves
a turtle
unmoving
missing part of its back
someone applied a Band-Aid
what did they think
the turtle
would survive
with sticky gauze
is that what they think
life takes
some fiber & plastic
to hold us in place
but sunlight filters
through slivers of trees
& once a man told me
his brother died
as a child
on the ranch
skull crushed
by a harvester
he said when his mother
screaming
lifted the boy
he saw
blue sky
through the hole
& that will always
be with me
—see me now
searching
for pieces
of shell
