Excerpt from:
Dunstanburgh
(Smokestack Books 2004)
From a hole in the seaward wall, a snail
Stretches its foreparts, eases its tail,Oozing over the knobbly grain,
Smoothing the stone with its slimy trail.Its skirts slacken under it. Stretching one eye
To examine a patch of leafy lichen,It feels its way down a ribbon of silver,
Studded with seashells, ancient mortar,Fossil of top-shell, cowrie, lime
Sliding under it. Taking its time.Its slow mouth working, its gluey strings
Trembling in the breeze like skin,It slithers over root and stalk
And crevice, the sepulchral darkHollow of the sea wall, where
The empty shell’s reoccupied —Invisible creatures twitch inside
An alabaster palace, madeIn a single movement, from the twist
Of its newel post to its silky lip,And everything circular starts again.
Katrina Porteous