On a Wednesday I bit down hard Into an apple. The red ringed hues of crimson I thought would taste better to my mouth Than to my eyes Until the sweet juice dripped down Onto my chin Leaving a sticky residue that ****** On my fingers when I wiped it away. The one bite of flesh I held in my open mouth Less open than my eyes That first saw that thing. That half of a worm that Still wriggled for life Hung half out a hole in my apple Like a drowning man hanging out of a Bouie waving his arms franticly for help But underneath the water his Legs still and deader than what I can either assume to be the head or end Of the worm still in my mouth.