by Andrea Ross
Worm, your heart gallops like a five-legged horse on open range—
Why do you need so many hearts?
Heart-rent from grinding through cast-offs?
Unlucky in love?
5-hearted worm, like a 5-pointed star, a 5-fingered hand—
your castings form astral projections on deep cave walls of our past.
Worm, heart of the earth. Skin breathing, thin-skinned,
your skin breath inhales our shabby whispers.
–I have sliced too many with my shovel’s blade.
Visit Andrea’s blog, The Sought After