Drunken, the soil
throws up its worms.
Guts-raw, glossy coils
thrashing the walk
knot my stomach,
reaching me.
I choose one, pinch
at his middle, lift
and learn how the most
vulnerable ones rage:
shuddering, snakely whipping
to punish the air
that exposes.
Forgetting myself, then,
I was actually afraid
I am like this.
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