Dead Trails

Dead Trails

Snails frozen stoic in journeys
across crusted kitchen tiles.
Squadges that were once slugs
splotch empty cupboard shelves.

A fade-y kid with a salt shaker
will be forever disappointed.

Dead already. He can’t kill.
Someone got to ’em first.

But the spoon up his sleeve
can still smash in the snails,
cave shells to broken homes.
There is no one left anymore

to tell him it’s long past bedtime.
His breath never fogs the window.

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11 responses to “Dead Trails

  1. Bizarre! I viewed a house this week and, on the living room carpet, there was a snail trail – I kid you not! heh-heh :)

  2. A little bleak, this one, but not in a bad way.

  3. Powerful Holly! With Halloween just over a week away… :)

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