Worms
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.
O at the Edges 
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.
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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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❤
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Thanks very much!
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This was one of my dad’s favorite jokes.
What’s worse than biting into an apple and finding a worm?
Biting into an apple and finding half a worm.
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Ha! That would be a tad disconcerting.
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