77) A Snail Day
Wolran Kim
Under the clock counting seconds
I was born as a unit of a minute
My eyes are at the end of my antennae
I can see whenever my antennae swing
Ten thousand ways
On the lowest way, slowest
In the night or the rainy day
Biting off time carrying my shell on my back
Whenever sticky liquid flows out
Soil powders stand up seizing me
The gummy way stretches
The traces like a face mask
Stepping on my friends’ sacrifice
Under the lawn mower
People are cured of their thirsty disease if they eat me
People’s dreams come true if they see me in their dreams
The aesthetics of waiting, slowness, or patience
A day appears every night on time
Whenever the fake rain comes from the sprinklers
Going out to bite each morning carrying my house on my back
Carrying a house is much better than going in and out
With huge loans
Over the speed of 12 meters per hour
There is immemorial peace
There is no beginning or end in the no-winning game
Here, a way is born
Looking back, there is a shiny and gluey path
A trace is erased by sunlight
I, again,
Turn back around in slow motion
