Spike Poem by BILLY ANGEL

I could see that he was adorable
even in the brown murk that was
suffocating him, only his beak
and blinking eyes breaking
through the scum. I scrubbed
his algae corroded shell
with a toothbrush. He perked
up, regained his green
complexion, the pale yellow
underside turning golden.
Darkening tattoos,
like revealed invisible ink,
appeared on his protruding
tail, head, and frantic legs.
Slippery, he shot out of my hands,
landed hard against aquarium glass.
I was sick, worried he'd hate me
the rest of his amphibious life.
Like picking up a footbalI,
I wrapped my fingers
around his carapace,
looked Spike in the eyes,
saw that all his limbs were
clawing the air, shell intact.
I lowered him to his new home.
He swam the perimeter,
scratched at the glass walls,
then crawled onto his floating
plastic dock, stretched his head
far out of the shell,
looked at me with what
I thought was friendship,
then readied himself to dive
into the water if I intended
friendship close-up again.