|Achatina, Giant South American Snail|
Dream is the reaching out feelers like a snail’s horns.
Reality is the shell or the thing of crystal boxes.
We must have the two together.
— H. D.
the snail shapeshifts across the road
proceeds without distinction
to death under wheels
or to safety on the other side.
Unlike a dead fox —
worth a close examination, a photo too —
I look aside from a dead snail
the smashed box
fluids drained to a shiny smear.
Likely I'll see
another snail alive
extending fore & aft, but not another fox
like a dove on a city sidewalk
circling its dead mate.
Strewn by death
these souls linger for reincarnation:
mammalia to aves, aves to gastropod