Sriharini Seshachalam

The Snail

i was four years older than
the boy who took a
hammer to the snail
i wish i had named
so i could have seen it
as anything other than me

a splatter across concrete
spraying my legs

i still don’t know
what’s inside a snail
and i don’t think
he does either

the boy
who pushed me to my palms
blistered and bleeding and
even even before he could speak
he could laugh
like he could hurt

i cried so much
when i was a girl
because of boys
drawing me, driving
lead into my skin,
saying they’d
burn my hair, and
knot my arms

the salt in
my tears
would have killed
the snail the
same as
his hammer did

but would do nothing
to stop anything from
happening
or not happening
as i’d learn
over
and over
every passing year

i wish i wasn’t
so scared
of boys and the men
they become

but all i see
are the hammers
they bring into
play

Sriharini Seshachalam is a Northern California based writer and UCD alumni. She enjoys watching, reading, and writing horror in her free time, accompanied by her betta fish, Blahaj. Seshachalam's poetry reflects questions and challenges with ancestry, particularly lost ancestry and efforts to reconnect with culture. She recently attended the Napa Valley Writers’ Conference and had her short story, “In or Out,” accepted by the Southland Alibi.