Hell No, I'm No Escargot
My mother and father, since my slimy birth,
raised me to fear diatomaceous earth.
I'm not any old snail, and just so you know,
I'm not here to be some fool's escargot.
Our Friend the Diatom
How we love our friend the diatom.
How often, its praises, we have sung.
We hold him gently in our palm,
in our heart and in our lung.
Fraternising
the needles
on abbreviated lips.
Handful of sand
hauling uphill.
Code of particles
feels the entire lie.
You wear mauve
when I cry.
Like diatoms
in eyes.
Erase the sun
from my hairs.
I am turning black.
The brine
had encroached all around.
The brown grass, the soaked laughter,
but I will come again in disbelief.
Satish Verma
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