Condescending worm, you look down on me
from the bottom of my shoe where you are
gazing upon my face with broken glee,
even though I ground you into the tar.
E’en squished as you are, your look seems to mock
and belittle me. You condemn my feet
for their careless trodding. Speechless, you talk
trash, despite the fact that you are ground meat
Over your broken shape, should I shed tears?
Would you have me agonize o’er your death?
What would you have done in those stolen years
if I had not crushed out your wormy breath?
scornful you seem, for I broke you like glass,
but I’ll just wipe my shoe off in the grass
Poet’s note: this poem might not be about a worm.
I’ll be sharing this with dVerse for Open Link Night tomorrow