A poem by Saskia McCracken.

Beneath blackberries heavy as planets
a slug slopes among the nettles,
at the same aching pace as me,
where to?

Gentle eye stalks move delicately
body brown as a toffee penny
skirts rippling amber slip
beneath the awning of a rusting leaf
leaving a trail of silver

Small feet tap inside my belly
I wonder which of us will get there first
my baby and I to each other
the slug to its secret destination

There are more each year
naked and soft as tongues
whispering hope, hope
in spite of us, because of us
revelling in the growing warm damp
of their watery habitats

*

Taken from Saskia’s upcoming poetry collection ‘Let Me Carry That For You’ — a meditation on the complex relationship between maternity and family history. Available to pre-order now (£10), copies will be sent out by the end of the month. Official launches in Glasgow and Edinburgh in September and October are tbc.

Saskia McCracken is a poet and author. Her nonfiction nature writing debut ‘Awful Creatures’ is out with Bloomsbury Wildlife in 2027. Her publications include poetry pamphlets ‘Cyanotypes’ (Dancing Girl Press), and ‘Common Name’ (Osmosis Press), and short story collection ‘Zero Hours’ (Broken Sleep Books). Visit Saskia’s website here / follow her on Instagram here.