Snail Talk for Rosemary
My invitation was lavish.
I planned my words to glide
as smoothly as that single leg moves
across the path of discharged mucus.
I imagined a kind of conversation
of blue moonlight and lacy slime,
moments sliding between noise
and silence, blurring together.
The snail appeared... Oh, the weight
it must carry every where!
Still with no permanent address,
everywhere it rests is a homecoming.
Almost immediately things
broke down. The snail could not
keep up, didn't want to, saw
no sense in either noise
or silence... Littlest one, I must
scale down to your level. It is
a fault of being human to always
want to ascend higher and higher.
I see you now, poised in a path
of your own devising, half-enclosed
within your tightly coiled shell,
your four antennae whipping back
and forth. Can those tiny,
hidden eyes see me whole?
For what am I really? A friendly
giant who bustles and struts
in the open air, bereft of
home, careless of his footsteps?
Or am I just an immense
shadow, blocking you from every sunbeam?
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Snail Talk for Rosemary by Daniel Brick )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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