what is it like,
to be the worm in the mouth of the bird?
what is it like to know it was meant to happen?
to be eaten whole,
nothing left behind.
i ooze, to feed your stomach
i ooze for a reason
it's not for nothing
the worm cannot be hurt when, even in the claws of death, the bird tells them it was right
it was supposed to happen this way:
never in any other
even while eaten in pieces
even
while sliding down the birds throat
even while knowing it's meant to be this way,
the worm must endure hearing the most painful thing of all
straight from the birds beak,
"i don't regret what i've done."

Mom says
I'm an inchworm,
but when I grow up
I'm gonna be a f
                            o
                            o
                            t
                            l
                            o                                           !
                            n                                    !    
           ­                 g                               !    !    !
                            w                        R     !     !
                            o                a   W     R    !     !
                            r           w  A    w  a   R  !   !
                            m     R a  W  a A   R  R     !    
                            !!  RaWAwaAaWaRR!!!   !   !
                                    R a   W   a  w  R      !      
                                           w     W   A     !      !  
                                                a     a    R !     !     !
                                                      w    R     !  
                                                                  !       !
                                                               ­                !

Earth
    worms the color of
    bruised tongues wriggle
    out of sodden dirt and
    splay themselves out on
    gritty asphalt

To breathe.
    We bite our tongues as the
    sun returns to burn away the wet.
    Bodies shrivel from the
    desiccation until we can come out to

Air that smells like all that
    rainwater and blood
    evaporating to fill our lungs.

If i was one,
          I'd tie a knot
in myself...

To remind me,
  where the front
starts and the back ends...

I  just need fingers to
                tie myself up..

Now that's a whole other
             idea for another time...

The great puts itself last not first,
For it carries the weak, that all succeed.
And if strong falls where weak walks,
Surely the strong is less than weak.
It's no greatness to put yourself first,
For even the worm cares for itself.
The brave may die for one it loves,
But only Love dies for its enemies.