poetry snapshots: jamie mcgarry

The Haunting of Poet by Snail

Has it been four days now?

Must have been. Nearly a week

since I did the deed. It was dark,

and I was hurrying – I didn’t see

his form, the path in front of me.

My careless size-ten shoe came down,

and crushed his hopes and dreams.



My stride stopped mid-step. Sickened

by that sound, the chilling crunch;

I saw him, when I lifted up.

A tragic mix of slime and shrapnel.



And now – although you’ll doubt –

I swear he’s back. I am the mollusc’s

sole unfinished business

on this fast and brutal Earth.



You’ll say it’s in my head, if I report

that I can hear his death

in every mistimed gearshift,

every mouth devouring crisps.



But it’s not my conscience doing this,

it’s him. He’s putting me through hell.

I hear, with every step I take,

the breaking of the tell-tale shell.



Last night, I thought I saw him,

bright and cold, in death.

Slowly sliding next to me,

and felt his tiny, ghostly breath.



‘It was dark!’ I scream. ‘I was hurrying!’

His silence says it all. But still,

you don’t believe me? Come on round,

see the trails across my walls...



and explain the vengeful holes

in my fridge-ridden, cellophaned lettuce.

Published in 'The Dead Snail Diaries'  Valley Press, 2011

Jamie McGarry was born in Norwich, in April 1988, and grew up in North Wales and Yorkshire. He attended university in Scarborough, earning a degree in English Literature and Culture, as well as founding a publishing label, Valley Press, in 2008. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this led to the release of several books by Jamie – including a novel, The Waiting Game (2007), and three volumes of poetry, What Do I Know Anyway? (2008), Autopilot (2009) and most recently, The Dead Snail Diaries (2011). He currently lives in East Yorkshire, where he runs Valley Press full-time, pursuing these bookish interests to his heart’s content.



A slow-moving, brown-hued creature, Jamie regularly enjoys a leafy salad, and has (on occasion) been known to come out of his shell.

the dead snail diaries

Here's an innovative launch idea - for The Dead Snail Diaries, the third poetry collection by Jamie McGarry, the founder of Valley Press.
On Thursday, 28th July, Jamie and some assistants will be performing the entire snail book in Scarborough Library, starting just after 6pm - tickets £3 on the door. Should be fun! Here's a poem from the book.




A Love Poem: From Snail to Slug



God made us brown so we’d be hard

to spot upon his fertile soil,

to hide from the birds...which he made as well...

to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.



But slug does not hide, or flinch back.

His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.

He turns defence into attack.

Oh slug – oh glorious slug.



God gave us shells to weigh us down.

Without them, we would HURTLE round,

so common sense suggests. Who’d beat us,

across a distance of ten metres?



But slug, dear slug, you have the grace

to not rub freedom in our face,

to slow your stride to match our pace.

Oh slug – oh glorious slug.



God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.

He taught us manners, and restraint.

He taught us not to stay out late,

we’re model garden citizens.



But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!

He goes out seven nights a week!

Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.

Oh slug – oh glorious slug.



I’d sell my soul to be like him.

Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.

I’d go twice weekly to the gym,

if doing so would let me in



to doors in town that say ‘slugs only.’

But slug accepts no fake, no phony.

I’ll love, but I will never be

a slug – oh glorious slug.