The Orange Salamanders

I remember tripping over a stone
Near the mountain bungalow
And found two bright salamanders
Not moving, fast asleep.

I took them by the tail and they awoke
Twisting like a screw between my fingers,
I put them in my thermos, closed it tight,
And brought them home.

Dad supplied a shoe box with a screen
(Cut out from the patio door
That I ran through like a bulldozer
Giving myself a scab on my nose.)

I filled the cage with soil and rocks,
Wheaties, raisons and marshmallows.
Occasionally startling them
With a toothpick, and setting them down
For trips on my forearm,
My face as large as the moon,
Watching up close for hours
Feeling their tiny toes tickle me,
While dreaming of the dinosaurs.
I slept with them under my bed.

When I awoke they were quite dead.
I think I felt remorse as my mother
Took their brown stiff bodies
And flushed them down the toilet.

All this went through me like a flash
Recently stumbling over a stone
As I saw two bright orange forms
Raise their heads at the sunlight.

I wanted to say I’m sorry
To your brother amphibians
I treated them like souvenir toys.
But it’s been well over sixty years,
I was just an inquisitive boy...

So let me take you home with me.
I’ll feed you ticks, and mites, and fleas.