Leveler Poetry Journal
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Written on Water

A rout of slugs rode their gush,

Raw glister eroding to zero. Re-

Oozing, all eros, they insisted

To write it, this zoom-out to smudge,

A glum gumshoe on a path mugging

For the muse’s leavings and wake.

Their bodies, loose jelly, nothing

Defined, unspool pooling gloop

From a self without actually being

More than some residue’s sum:

No shell, no gristle, no spine—

Just one left foot left defeated

In the blurring dribble that I’m

Stuck cleaning up. Epiphenomena

Floored by their own ribald juice.

My roommate remarked he’d lay

Siege with circles of salt, whole

Seas, but refuses to willfully

Hurt them. No, time wouldn’t give

Them any choice but to come to

Some edge, so catching them dead

In their tracks. They’ll soon shrivel

Away, wayward lives mostly water,

Rivers unraveled, nodding each stalk.

William Cordeiro