Snail on a razor blade
She has a penchant for life on the edge,
her abode never quite fixed, travels light,
takes the refuge of last resort –
her fragile, backpack-bivouac.
Soon crushed, her soft flesh oozes
with the invitation to abuse.
He’s a sharp customer, edgy,
ever-ready to slice a nemesis
apart with his ever-present shiv.
Their meeting seems inevitable.
She slinks herself along the length
of his blade. It slits. She feels herself
split. This is self-harm par-excellence.
Her whole body’s on the line.
Copyright © Sharon Larkin 2016
Sharon Larkin’s poetry has been widely published in magazines, on-line and in anthologies (Cinnamon, Indigo Dreams and Eyewear). She is chair of Cheltenham Arts Council and Hon Sec of Cheltenham Poetry Society, and blogs at Coming up with the Words https://sharonlarkinjones.com
