Snails Poem by Felix Bongjoh

In the foamy slime
And sludge of the world,
All bog
And slough headed
For Eris
through night-chewed moons,

I caught snails
And crept with them,
As I climbed
The mountain
Of my downhill career.

I wriggled with
Caterpillars
Through the second half
Of my stormy
Trip to one higher level
Of the mountain
Full of slugs.

And as I crawled
In a dry stick,
In my larva
Splitting open

Into a butterfly
Of me, as a hurricane
Chopped off my wings,

Leaving me a moth
In the desert
Dribbled off the fangs
Of a cataglyphis
That pulled me
Into a winged tempest,

The only wind that flew me
To another
Weave of marshes

Churning me like ratatouille
Until, tossed off
From the overfull plate
Of a diner,

I found home among
A new round of snails.

And here I spin
Again
In a wheelchair with wings.