Strange softshell turtles
large and flaccid,
stacked in plastic boxes
next to the sidewalk
on a cold hard butcher shop floor.
Maybe you were
raised on a farm,
where captive born turtles
knew nothing of freedom
fattened for the kill
your every need, supplied.
More likely though
you were trapped this summer,
wrenched from your native watery
the waters you will only know
in your last turtle dreams.
We are not your friends,
our actions do not deceive you.
Even I, empathetic to your plight
will never be trusted.
How frankly you stare,
how brave you seem
in spite of