Garden Lesson

Garden Lesson

My little cousin picked
her up, said, "Hello, Nancy!"
and her body squeezed into
itself, timid as
sleeping grass. We counted
to ten, till her flagpole
eyes re-emerged, two
hypnotic fingers dowsing our faces
for danger. Later, we watched

her crawl away, slow
and barge-like, patiently wading
through a sticky pool of
fall; behind her, a
white snail's trail, opalescent
in the wet morning light,
bright as ammolite.

– Mohamad Atif Slim