Harper and the Snails

By anonymous 

For Renée

It was late—too late for both of us

to have work the next day.

(How will the government

keep running when you’re tired?)

We sat on the step

sof the flat, watching Harper

run about. I played with her

on your floor, pretending

not to notice you watching us.

Harper wrestled me.

I wrestled back.

You said I was winding her up

before bed.

I said, ‘Good.’

We stared at the snails

as they climbed the walls.

We stared,

and I wondered

what they saw

staring back at us.

You told me

to throw my cigarette

in the jar. I missed.

Maybe I hit a snail.

You threw yours—and it set the house on fire.

(Joking.)

You missed too.

When I woke in the night,

Harper had sandwiched herself

between us.

In the morning,

she was on top of me.

When I left,

there were no snails around.