the danger of crossing 

prehistory in her face.
we found a snapping turtle 
in the middle of the road. dad explained 
you pick up a turtle by its tail as he maneuvered
around behind the animal. i stood on the other side
as trucks drove around dad & the turtle.
the grass was bright green & full of dew.
it wet my feet in my sandals & i wanted to know
how the turtle could be so unaware 
of the danger of crossing. i don't see my dad
much anymore but i do call him on the phone.
he tells me he's tired. i tell him i'm
doing wonderful because i don't want 
him to be another vessel for my sadness.
i think of the turtle with alligator 
in her eyes & reptile around her ankles.
the glare she had at dad for trying 
to lift her safely to the other side. 
the double yellow lines lay like broken strings.
i wonder if he's come across another 
snapping turtle. i wonder if he'll go down 
to the creek with my brother today.
are there turtles in autumn? 
or do they go to sleep? the deliberate nature
of her blinking. the eyelids of a monster.
her short tail & dad gripping it tight
to fling her near where i stood.
she snapped & the closing of her mouth
sounded like horse hooves on asphalt.
she looked at me. a deep burning stare
& i stepped back away from her
terrified that she would bite. her gaping 
mouth. the human pink of her tongue.
i tell dad that i am doing great.
i'm doing so perfect. he talks about 
money like it's a snapping turtle--
ancient & unpredictable-- ready to snap
& remove a finger or two. i stood in the grass.
turtle shuffled away toward the stream.
grey & rock-like. dad continuing his instructions
give him space & we climbed back into 
his jeep & i never asked why he thought
the turtle was walking toward
the other side so i have been left
to consider this myself. no i don't want science.
i want the turtles to think as humans do. 
the turtle yes have to see the whirling cars.
yes have to know that it could die crossing.
maybe though this pull into peril 
is not so strange & so animal.
dad standing there laughing as he lunged 
to grab the snapper's tail. dad sitting on 
a bench by the creek. dad driving the jeep
with the rusted out frame. i'm calling him
& i'm still standing in the dew soaked grass
on a morning in April. a car rushes by.