I think of you and the weight of this shell
digs into my back. I make up my mind
to hit the gas through this intersection
but when the light turns green my exhaust
turns to slime and my tires slip and slide;
a silver trail desiccates behind me.
Riding my back always, this heavy house
of brittle walls brims over with tender looks
and touch, the color nude. I wish I could
smash this carpet bag of residual flesh,
expose the soft and supple to the sun,
pour salt on promises hanging so thick
the air turns to slime and I can’t breathe
or keep up with this life I’ve built without you
so I’m always slipping, catching myself.
Seattle, WA
April 10, 2014
"A Snail's Life" was first published in Miller's Pond Poetry Magazine. Fall 2014. Online. http://www.millerspondpoetry.com/index.php/issues/web_editions1
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