Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 10

For a Garden Slug
The
long
vowel
the grass
makes
of your body
takes the shape
of music in our eyes
as you pull away
from sudden
sun-pools your
fluent love of
stone and grass,
your liquid purr
and fingering of
the green blades
becoming the words
a cello might
have known
before the touch
of human hands,
as you move, one
perfecting limb,
to form verbs
of petal-hush
and the dull mud,
as if to render
visible in this space
a whisper of
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