Poem: Worms In a Storm

 

Worms in a Storm

 

to twitch in swollen mud,

frantic nerves of drowning wrath.

raindrops pucker gutter floods,

yank the false ecstasy

of the baptimsal squigglers

down through slime-lipped grates,

down through a stygian intestine

of sewer system where they 

dodge the swipe of rats and

feces-fecund gyres.

down, until they dance

as abyssal as possible,

not quite still dead,

vomited into the brine,

luring the mouths of bass.

 

 

 

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