Slugs are not much loved.
Maybe God loves slugs,
But who knows?
One day in the garden, no slugs.
The invisible destroyer becomes solid,
Well, almost solid;
It’s a slug.
Rare is the animal whose name so suits its physicality.
Now there is a name that suits its own ugliness.
Maybe if I was German…..
The invisible destroyer becomes solid.
My mother is walking back and forth in her own kitchen
Not knowing where she is.
One day in the kitchen, no Alzheimer’s.
No, I lie.
Slugs take their time eating away,
Chewing, or whatever they do to petals,
Until one day I notice what is gone.