Breathing Room
In a tiny jar
a snail slithers
among rocks and crevices
and a slice of carrot.
Occasionally she stretches
out and clings to glass - finding comfort
in traveling its circumference.
As I observe her slimy underside
suctioned inside her glass prison,
I realize six holes in a metal lid provide air
but leave no room to breathe.
Wistfully, I remove the lid
and set her free.
1 comments :
I don't know much about poetry, but I did like this. My only thought is, it seemed more like reading prose than poetry. But that's just me.
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