A Poem—To a Snail

I love snails.

Their imperturbable steadfastness.

How they never veer from the straight and narrow.

The fact that they always arrive at their destination.

The whisper of their tracks when they are gone.

This poem, published in LitMag, is my tribute to this quiet gastropod who, however far he roams, is always at home.

A Snail’s (Post)script

When the snail scrawls 
	in his imperturbable
		hand, his priority

is not sonority, but 
	a certain elegance of
		erasures. What mute musings 

are triggered by his 
	query of a stone, for 
		which one eye-knobbed horn 

bends to formulate 
	the question? For evidence,
		he prefers the vestigial,
	
a glimmering trace, 
	the dew’s slide through 
		the garden’s secret archives.