A Snail

As in its shell across a leaf's green face
A snail plies its tedium's slow way
It leaves beneath a streaked and slimy trace
Adds ugly accent to a sullen day

Yet when, in stunning ardent alchemy,
Bursts from behind dark clouds the dazzling sun
Even this, ignominiously
Laid down, is charged shining silver sudden

Just so, what we, in thought's dark hold caught, make
As we consume green days to vulgar ends,
May unaccountably the dross mold break
And stand revealed beyond where art portends

A wretched creature's wretched signature
Itself can capture reflecting rapture


Martinique, January 1985
(just as flu fever was coming on)