The snakes are writhing, they thrill
to the sound of you calling out ‘darling’
and ‘baby’, words you no longer mean.
They sluice the bogwater flooding
the ditch between us. They glide
on silted escape routes. By mid-morning
they made their way across
the path and slimed our wall: a slash
of colour on our grey, a purple bruise
of Botoxed lip. Our bodies oozing
slush, I step into the naked squelch
of their needs. Salt the wounds.
The quiet assassination.
The bystanders of our rot.
Veronicelloidea is a superfamily of air-breathing land slugs. Salt kills slugs by dehydrating them rapidly.
I am linking this up to my favourite poetry site dVerse Poets Pub, which is back with renewed va-va-voom after the summer break. Can you believe it’s the 200th edition of their Open Link Night?
findingtimetowrite 