Wormcast


Dormant, annelid scars
creep and split along her breastbone: gravid,
patient Hydra--mocking, restless, hungry,
blind--immune to my reflections.

I deserve those scars.

Theists, shut your foolish mouths,
or I will stopper them with wormcasts,
stopper them with bone-dry earth,
rife with hookworms and with heartworms from your pious shit.
Higher mysteries do not concern me.
This is simple.
This is wrong.





for Carol



JDP 97/10


Copyright John D Porter © 1997

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