Slugs

“And this is why I sojourn here”
—John Keats, ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci’

I was finally leaving the woods
When I saw, a slug
Waving at me
Quietly softly sweetly, then loudly
In an odd tone, though I was one to enjoy such oddities
Back then. I nearly
Stood on it, the slug,
It putting itself right at my feet, but then it repeated
Its sweetness at me, as it seemed
To know I enjoyed such oddities
Back then.
After all, I’d returned its wave!
                                                Only it was that
That sent me back to the woods
And my wild for a while as the slug
Kept me talking and sharing, which was getting me
        Lost again as I
Did not notice the slug slowly getting
        Away from the woods, me
        More lost in its tangle of weeds that
                The slug was freed
                From the slug
                        With a new voice, the voice not so sweet, the slug
                                Leaving now with their wave
                        At the end a bye
                                        This time, as they shouted
                        Back to me
        In their wild
        Wood, “No no no no no! Are you
                        Sure? Because you see, I am sure
                                                I never did wave at you.”

(A version of this poem was first published in The Poetry Lighthouse, January 2025 (https://www.thepoetrylighthouse.com/poems?author=67895f97e13a9f080f97d21f) and was shortlisted for The Poetry Lighthouse Prize. It appears in The Poetry Lighthouse Anthology: Volume II, July 2025 (https://www.thepoetrylighthouse.com/books-tpl-1/the-poetry-lighthouse-anthology-volume-ii))