Yesterday’s cored apple buzzes with light,
another vessel stored in sadness.

I have swallowed vows.

I have replaced air with earth
and enjoyed tongued flesh.

To think is to live. To live is to delay.

Burrowing through the soil’s rich
decay, this body,

accepted. Absorbed.



“Worms” was first  published in Rue Scribe in September 2018.


6 thoughts on “Worms

  1. Sometimes it takes forever to understand what you want to convey. I’m not always successful, but when I am it’s a beautiful feeling, often emotionally telling, and always though-provoking. This one brought tears to my eyes. I don’t know why, unless turning 61 is changing the way I view life.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks very much, Will. All I can ever hope for as a poet is to evoke some sort of emotional response. Life changed for me at 60. 61 and 62 have brought similar changes and epiphanies. Let’s never stop growing.


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