No lyrical odes come for you,
disregarded slug.
You are an eater of gardens.
And you’re slimy.
You shall receive no rhapsodies
singing of your gently undulating grace,
the fractal mottled monochromata of your slow torpedo body,
your infinidirectional
questcurious
softalien
eyes
on
stalks.
About this poem
Every now and then, the beauty in things generally ignored or considered ugly strikes me. This time, the ignored ugly thing happened to be a slug; a rainbow prism was reflecting on its back as it moved through the garden after a storm.
About Natalie Mills Lyndon
Natalie is a sporadically published writer and pedantic speller who consequently works as a captioner/editor for a living. She likes her music too bombastic, her chocolate refrigerated and, for someone who isn't a zoologist, knows a novelty-oversized amount about a wide variety of beasties. She does not consider the term 'crazy cat lady' to be an insult.
