Warm Worm

Photo by Krystian Piątek on Unsplash

Warm Worm

Moss-heavy limbs fall from charge
of a warm southern wind
rest in a compost graveyard
of other arms that have been

Once boasted of leaves
awarded with weighted sog
You might pray if awarded knees
The warm low water releases a fog

Time will turn you into swamps breath
and a story told around the table
As the matted hair of a beggars sets
as sure you’ll become a fable

Draw out the white worm that hides in the gut
with a warm bowl of cream
Demand it to uncoil from the inner glut
the foreign body within a scream

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~By Shannon Laws

Poem: Anything Else

deathof socrates alcestis
The Death of Socrates 1787 Oil on canvas, 98 x 133 cm Statens Museum for Kunst, Copenhagen

 

Anything Else

-Shannon P. Laws

 

It flakes off my shoulder when I bend down

Black trails my movement

Dark spots in the corner of my eye

let me know it’s still there

A reminder of the charcoal thread

that ties me to my past

whisps of whispers from

that one night long ago

 

The hurt bleeds out

over the decades

dribbles into a bucket

deeper than my lifetime will hold

A pain oozes out of me

weeps down the bark of me

black like sap