Eating Worms

By Alison Stone

   Nobody loves me, everybody

   hates me. My daughter dangles

pasta and sings, flicks her fork so

the strands dance and sauce

 

spots the wall.

I bite back sharp words.

This is the year

I learned to say, my mother’s

death, my husband’s heart attack.

 

   Down goes the first one, down

   goes the second one, oh how

  they wiggle and squirm.

 

   Long tall slimy ones, short fat juicy ones

I won’t be the one to stop her song.


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