After life

0:00

-1:18

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On days when I don’t have it in me to homeschool—
lacking materials, or will, or willingness, or energy—
I turn on the TV and search for a documentary
in the vague shape of what we are learning.
In this way, we found out about how
Tutankhamun, himself so young, had two babies:
daughters who were born before they could live
or daughters that died before they were born.
These babies were laid to rest with him
(two cradles of shrunken limbs).
I think of his daughters this morning
when I see snail shells gathered on the porch rail:
pale green, a little gold, bold black lines. A boy
or a bird has broken one apart, found the heart
of life left at the core, the curl of dried flesh
that the snail left when it died
and disappeared.
Another shell is overturned, showing a tiny snail
clinging to its underside: perhaps a baby mummified
with its father or mother; perhaps just a lonely snail
who sought shelter in the shell from the summer rain
and didn't wake again.