on the concrete perimeters
edging the grass verges
on the denmark hill estate
I count at least fifty snails
coaxed out by nightlong rain
from green bristly blades
onto the slick surfaces of a world
that was made just for them
how many beaks bikes or boot heels
will crack through their casings?
what wild stupid strokes of luck
will ferry the few to lush leaves?
I would have filmed them all
if I hadn’t left my phone back home –
it’s just me the snails and the rain
and my thoughts – oh yes – here they come
poems heraclitus in south london
🪴