Slug Poem by Sarah Dharmasiri

To be despised is to be slug, homeless and writhing
Salts of earth burn as scorn is laboured on these wretched beasts
Assimilating ground into their fat juices
When rain comes they gather speed
Adulterating walls to great disgust
Yet these nomads of no loved abode
Leave silver in their wake
Reminding us they are here
And whilst we toil and reap the fruits of earth's labour
These unmentionables turn the soil at night
The silver goose that wakes the ground for one more harvest
Before sliding back to shelter in damp walls.