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The Boy Who Had a Sea-Snail Growing in His Knee

Adam Crittenden

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We expect him to miss
         a part of himself that is not himself
         and I expect myself to wish
         I had given birth to a snail,
but I don’t do it because I am selfish.

                  You tell me that that’s classic me—
          wanting the benefits but none of the costs
of letting a gastropod suckle in my blood
                             until my kneecap skin expands
                             and ruptures.

Maybe fifteen years from now the boy will remember
          what it was like to have a pet
                   growing inside of himself,
          depending on its host to be kind. Or maybe he
won’t.

In fact, I see him now
                   riding a subway to his cubicle
                             where the internet forgets his story
                                      and the snail is long dead,
                                      its cells and molecules spread
          across the city like microscopic tableaus
for a scavenger hunt nobody cares about.