I’ve declared war
On snails
Those innocent looking creatures
With their coiled delicate shells
Hang on my house like petite acrobats
Without a peep
They silently lurk
For so long
I refused to
Blame them
When all around I heard
The chant
It’s the snails
It’s the snails
Who could believe such
Tiny
Sluggish
And quiet organisms
Could create such atrocities
Or possess such appetites
I plant
They eat
We have our own ecosystem
These slugs are a gang of thugs
They mark their turf with a
Graffiti trail of glistening goo and lacey leaves
Well
This turf is mine
And
They can’t have it
Enough petunias gave their lives
While
I tried to keep peace
No more
No more will I stand on the porch
Sip my coffee
And watch them lazily and incrementally move across the floor
No more
Will I believe they are harmless
And
Leave them be
From now on
I will stomp on every snail I see
And
Send them to Buddha
8 comments:
This was first thing I read this morning while drinking coffee -- what a way to start the day, laughing and laughing some more. Thanks Deb!
I'm glad I could get your day goin' in the right direction!
Haha- my grandsons have been utterly fascinated by the recent influx of snails. They take them off the sidewalk so that nobody can step on them- and move them to the grass so they "can have some food." I love watching them! You're awesome, Deb!
Proving once again, one man's junk is another's treasure. Tell them to come to my house and rescue all they want.
They would probably LOVE that! There's something about those "slime trails." :)
I love the line "these slugs are a gang of thugs." I just planted several flats of flowers for a wedding reception at our house this weekend, and I swear I can hear them chomping at night. You know, when they get really big they may be nice on a plate with butter and garlic. Just in case feed them beer (or champagne) instead of poison.
A friend told me she had a friend in CA whose husband got her a mining hat with a light so she'd be hands free. She'd go out after dark and grab them up and put them in a coffee can with beer in the bottom. Not sure why beer. Maybe it kills them. Maybe she cooked them. So, I think gardening magazines should start selling mining hats so we can all go out on stealth snail removal. Maybe this is a FEMA project?
Ah, Deb, never let us hear you say you're not a poet again! This is wonderful! Visceral. Angry and funny and unforgettable--like you. I love the idea of sending them to Buddha. Could my possum go with 'em?
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