Tortoise Shell: I

The genius of evolution
To grant retreat and devolution
Of all that constitutes the self:
The green and yellow tortoise shell.

In muck and heat of crowded feet,
Eyes that dance a sordid beat,
“There’s always hope!” I always yell,
“I’ll be inside my tortoise shell!”

Old or young, the door’s ajar
To bite a tongue and recede far
Inside a timeless spaceship’s well,
Where peace resides: my tortoise shell.

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