by Jennifer L. Freed
The strange, slow beauty
of a giant snapping turtle,
her alien silhouette
crossing the wooded road, caught
in the corner of my eye
as I drive past the pond.
I stop, step closer, near enough to hear
the clicking of her claws,
to see
her amber eye seeing
mine.
We stand, each frozen
in the other’s gaze.
Then she is abruptly
on her way,
dragon legs hinging
quickly now,
on into the underbrush, then
gone.
I know
I cannot save such wonders
but in memory
and words I give my daughters
with their dinner,
which maybe they’ll still hold
within the structure of their bones
when what is left
of me
is memory and words.
(This poem appears in the chapbook, These Hands Still Holding.)
Jennifer L. Freed envies her two children, who find time to finish reading several books each week. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Poetry East, The Atlanta Review, The Common Ground Review, Literary Mama, and other publications. She was awarded honorable mention for the 2013 Frank O’Hara Prize, judged by Alice Fogel, and her chapbook, These Hands Still Holding (Finishing Line Press, 2014) was a finalist in the 2013 New Women’s Voices Chapbook competition. Please visit her website at jfreed.weebly.com.
Kate Dean is an artist, poet, gardener, holistic health coach and musician, and lives in the Monadnock Region of New Hampshire. She is completing an MFA in Studio Art with a focus on textiles, and makes installations, artist’s books, and sculptures.
Smoky Quartz 