Jeffrey McDaniel (1967 / Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
The Boy Inside The Turtle
Yesterday was an extra-long day
for the boy with no arms
or legs. Neighborhood children
played outside his window.
A soft machine, they circled,
joined hands, closed eyes,
jumped up and down: shoelaces,
giggles moving in time.
One caught the boy peering.
The boy contorted out of sight,
his breaths lumped on one another
like cows in a mat house.
He twisted too slow. Look,
it's the turtle! The children
gassed like an audience
responding to a laugh sign.
He shifted his weight left to right
back left, again right,
then felt from his chair- a pilot
balling out of a crashing plane.
He was familiar with this
Falling. So was his mother.
She'd surrounded his chair
with six layers of towels.
He waited there like a spilled bucket
of green paint. When he no longer heard
any semblance of playing,
he called his mom for help.
Comments about this poem (The Boy Inside The Turtle by Jeffrey McDaniel )
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