Worms
It was the soles that intrigued them.
The body had rotted away completely
apart from the bones.
And the bones had nothing to offer
since they had already been
hollowed out.
Just cold, empty hard things
they happened to bump into while
travelling through the wet earth.
It was the soles that intrigued them.
The clothes had rotted away completely
apart from the buttons.
And the buttons had nothing to offer
since they were no longer
attached to a body.
Just cold, smooth hard things
they happened to bump into while
travelling through the wet earth.
It was the soles that intrigued them.
The boot leather had gone completely
apart from the rubber soles.
And the soles were soft and warm
and the worms worked hard
at hollowing them out.
They would make nice, pleasant tunnels
to go through while
travelling through the wet earth.
Published in Decanto, 14th Issue, December 2004
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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