The Slug
I swallowed your death,
spit it out as a ball.
I tossed the ball
in my garden.
The ball uncurled
into a slimy slug.
The slug sucked
the sun from the flowers.
The slug stole
the soil, fertile and dark.
The slug made my garden
an empty, dry patch.
All that was left
was your death.
***
Mail
Footprints in the sand
lead out the garden gate.
I follow them to to the mailbox
and find
a letter
never sent.
***
Where it All Began
I stand where life could flow or flood.
A source I
thought forever.
But then you died.
The source is dry,
the headwaters no more.
Copyright © 2025 Nolcha Fox
All Rights Reserved
Nolcha Fox’s poems have been curated in print and online journals. Her poetry books are available on Amazon and Dancing Girl Press. Nominee for 2023, 2024, and 2025 Best of The Net. Nominee for 2023 and 2024 Pushcart Prize. Editor of Chewers by Masticadores. Co-Poetry Editor LatinosUSA.
Website: https://writingaddiction2.wordpress.com/
and https://nolchafox2.wixsite.com/nolcha-s-written-wor/blog
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/nolcha.fox/
LatinosUSA 
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