Snails
How convenient to carry a home on one’s back, I
think, disregarding heft and plumbing and the shape
of rooms too hollow to feel. Yesterday a box of African
chapbooks migrated to my doorstep, and I plucked
yellowing leaves from the tomato plant by the poetry
shack. Marine snails constitute the majority of snail
species, but we count first what we can see. Everything
turns–the days buzz by like male blackchins swooping
through their pendulum air-dance, and I tally my
diminishing hours from the safety of these walls.
Heliciculture is another word for snail farming, but
reminds me of stars spiraling wildly above my roof
each night, spewing poetic fire throughout the cosmos.
The neighbor mows her lawn and I observe the wind
stepping from treetop to treetop, another sign of the
earth’s continued rotation. Their slime permeates human
cosmetics to minimize premature skin aging, and was
once used medicinally to soothe coughs (I write this
as mucus slides down my throat, a response of the
lung’s filtration system to histamines). There is much
to consider about the intricacies of harvesting slime.
Most snail species consume plants, but a few are
predatory carnivores, which leads to questions
about their prey. Cooked in butter with garlic, served
with a dry white? I spear one, contemplate texture
and move on to the next, leaving behind no visible trail.
* * *
My poem “Snails” was published on Vox Populi in October 2017. Many thanks to founder and editor Michael Simms for giving this poem a home.
O at the Edges 
Fascinating creatures Robert … I come across snails often in my courtyard .. .
Do Snails Go To The Ballet?
Beyond our birthplace
Life is not a race
We all have our own pace
Within our own carapace
On my garden pathway
A snail was towing his chalet
I knelt there beside his showy beret
To watch his powerfully moving display
Of carrying his house everyday
I inquired about his homely sleigh
And asked, had they ever traveled to the ballet
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They are fascinating, indeed, Ivor. And their courtship ritual! Eek.
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Reading this while under tornado alert across 4 counties – afternoon sky blackening to confirm threat – drawn to your spiraling stars spewing poetic fire; gusts now suggest poetic vibrations too urgent to wait for tonight’s stars! As you say, we count first what we can see … but the unseen, uncountable nevertheless stir apprehension (or should I say anticipation? We need some rain.)
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The poetic fire has dwindled, for the time being, but we’ve had much rain here. 🙂
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Love how you dissect what you are coming across as you go in the most illuminating and beautiful way. Carrying one’s house on your back. Such an incredibly ride with you. Great piece and congratulations on the publication.
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Thank you, Joni. So much of what I write includes observations and/or hints of what’s occurring around me while I’m writing. And then the mind wanders…
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I do the same. You are quite gifted and I am glad your work showed up again in my reader. I really enjoyed reading you again, it had been awhile. 🦋
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