Prick of the Spindle: Poetry: Glover: On the Porch, While You Were Out of Town

On the Porch, While You Were Out of Town
by Maggie Glover

After I cupped the brown turtle in my palm
and lifted, thinking:
This is a pet worth keeping,
her starry iris, her stay-put shell,

she slipped,
her arms and legs moving in frantic backstroke

(you would say cold-blooded,
you would not say slipped).

She hit the patio steps, chipping her shell
at the rim, a shadowy piece
escaping beneath your deck chair.

I stooped to find it,
the dark chilling my hands as I waved
back and forth along the wood.
On both knees, I looked.
I tell you, I tried.

Maggie Glover is originally from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and is currently pursuing her MFA at West Virginia University. Her poems have appeared in or are
forthcoming in 32 Poems, Pebble Lake Review and Wicked Alice.