Meaningless in French Restaurants
With grace in every part the snail moves, fast
Like all perfections, fast in nature, form
And beauty. Snails do not want meanings vast
And mystical. The snail is not a warm
Enlightenment from Zen, sparrows picked
By Christ for moralizing point, or flower
Dressed up beyond Judaic kings. He’s slicked
With mucus and refuses to hold power
Except in self-contained protective curl
Of strength. Snails move along with blurs of shade
And light while slowly, doubly they unfurl
Their horns, not horns, all elegance arrayed.
The oval, not quite circle, of its home
Swirls like a sacred geodesic dome.
~ Phillip Whidden