A Science Unexplored

Maggots wiggle around

on the ground,

squirm,

shiver

despite the bright,

mid day rays

of amber penetrating

their coelomate bodies.

They are

Sectioned off,

Dissected according to

Volume,

Mass,

Amount,

Worth,

Originality,

Attraction.

We put them in pickling jars

High on a shelf.

Close the door,

Lock the lock

And send the key

To rot unremembered

In our stomachs.

These memories

Of maggots

Rest not in our minds

But rather

Our stomachs.

We digest them

After we ****** them,

As breakfast

Always comes before

Ravaging.

However,

the memory lives on

in nostalgic bubbles

of hydrochloric acid

and pH under 3

in walls of flesh

not quite dissolved;

each section

still tastes

the same as it felt

when it lived on the surface,

wiggling on the ground.

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