Monday, April 19, 2021

NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen, Poem Eighteen


Here, worms
have legs,

expect you 
to hanker down,

suck soil 
while they hover,

use your fingers
as fish food, 

get cut, blame
twice as much,

envy the meat
on each body

they only command
before passing on

to pigs with homes
better than yours.

to handle. He got away scot-free,
let his yearnings jut out

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