Snails and Belladonnas
Go, little snails, from my garden wall,
where youšre climbing this evening
between one moist green meal
and your next. Go, in this bucket,
through the sweet evening air,
not to an early death, though
from my point of view you deserve it;
no, go as I release you,
over the road where mild October
has seen fresh grass at the park edge.
Feast there and multiply, if you must,
but spare the belladonna lilies we
secretly inserted near the railing.
Though not flowering this season,
maybe one year their bare spare spikes
of white and pink will surprise us,
or if Išve gone, please others.
October/November 1007
Max Richards
Doncaster, Victoria
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