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Pastimes : A Poetry Corner -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: poet who wrote (227)	5/8/1999 9:30:00 AM
From: Susan Saline	Respond to of 1582

>>>How do we know it isn't what goes on at the cool debaucheries of slugs <<< The naked jelly of those gold bodies, little strangers glistening among the stones Their gelatinous bodies at my mercy. Made mostly of water, they would shrivel to nothing if they were sprinkled with salt, but I was not interested in that. What I liked, was to draw aside the ivy breathe the odor of the wall and stand there in silence until the slug forgot I was there it sends its antennas up out of its head the glimmering horns rising like telescopes until finally the sensitive knobs would pop out the ends delicate and intimate the slow elegant being coming out of hiding and gleaming in the dark air so trusting you could cry. The Dead and the Living

To: poet who wrote (227)	5/9/1999 4:20:00 PM
From: poet	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 1582

CHILD (To my daughter 15 years later, on Mother's day) This morning, hunting through the creeks, For the unfamiliar: the garish shield-bugs Clustered on the fennel flowers, the elegant Parasitic wasps, feral pigeons The praying mantis At their fierce devotions. You were Excited, yes, but something else......you ignored my inquisitions. Moved by your dark Reticence, I stooped and held you A moment in my arms. You smiled Assureed, I thought. But tonight you ask me To see you safely to your dreams; to leave The lamp on while you sleep. In the still hours Your cry rings out; and I am drifting Through a veiled landscape, bewildered by your voice's Unplaceable resonance. I kneel and push aside Curtains of rasping foliage: something squirms beneath a rotten stem. I am on my feet And running, as you see me living.... I meet you in the half light Of the long corridor; your eyes glazed, your Round face blank with orphaned fear. You put Your arms around me, holding tight To the worn frames of a wooden door. --1984/1999