I came upon the most interesting image walking home from school the other day. It was of two snails. One was dead, in a pool of slime and its side split open, and the other was slowly circling around the dead one. So I decided that these snails were married and write a poem about it.
An Elegy for Susie
His companion was dead, that large mass
had trampled her plump, glistening body.
Torn flesh exposed, visceral fluids oozed,
mixing with the tears that flowed from
his probing brown eye. Black hearses came
scurrying: pinched, pried, removed flesh from her side,
as her companion circled round , drawing a
trail of tears on the ground, that sparkled
in the dappled sunlight.
A helicopter lands, the iridescent wings
extend, but no mercy rescue for her.
He finishes circling round her body,
examining for some sign of hope.
Eyes stretched up toward the sky,
rigid back, extended neck,
a silent wail from a slug
whose wife has just died.
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