Gail White



This morning, at my garbage can,
just underneath the lid,
two snails in the embrace of love
connubially hid.

Who knows what dangers they had passed,
how high they had to climb,
in order to achieve at last
this interchange of slime?

I left you unmolested, snails,
beneath your plastic shelf,
because on Friday nights I look
ridiculous myself.

Gail White has been part of the Formalist poetry movement from its beginning, has outlived some of its journals, and still submits to all she can find. She is proud to be a contributing editor of Light and also a frequent contributor to Lighten Up Online. Her book Asperity Street and chapbook Catechism can be found on Amazon. She is the resident cat lady of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana.