He tracks her along the edges of the zoo's adobe
walls, tucks his head inside each time he butts
her shell; his shoveled underlip nearly spills her
on her back as if his would-be bride were a rival
he must tip to die by slices from the sun.
She scuds through skid marks in the mud,
slows where they've waltzed before, never
wheels to confront him with her vicious beak
and claws nor vanishes inside her shell to make him
contemplate the turtle paradox of outside in.
He feels their caravan veer downhill, hefts
his bulk atop her crescent spine, powers
his raspy shell along her sun-baked tiles.
His flippers vainly clench her sides, churn
toward her core as if through force of will
he'd pin this rolling wave between his fins,
clasp her steady for one last plunge
to freedom in the sea.
He plants his hind feet on the ground, flares
his armadillo organ, finds the open envelope
inside her undulating hull; then like an ancient
shell-bound man, ecstatic eyes in a haggard skull,
he shudders, gasping with each thrust.
Wizened old Lothario, empathic concubine,
obeying Darwin's last command to these doomed
prisoners trapped a thousand miles from home.
Only the underestimated
know the power of patience.
Gaia chipped her from the core two billion
years ago, thrust her toward the light;
she steered to the planet's skin, reposed
in silence for six-million swoops
around a slightly straining sun.
When a highway clattered by she knelt
on the roadside, beamed to every passing
being: You an engineer? Finally she received
a Yes and signaled Take me home with you!
The man paused til his brain decoded
What a gorgeous stone, the very thing
to tame those papers on my desk!
Now she hunkers by his modem, seizes
waves- solar, sound, magnetic- and stacks
them in her cells of silicon and quartz.
As do cousins round the globe, she stores
megabytes of life, waits til human sounds
fall silent and it’s time to sing her song.