Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Is There A God For The Beard Worm?

Before wood became skin
I went for a swim in the ocean
but my stone for a heart
anchored me to melancholy.

I sank so deep
I befriended the beard worms,
allowed my feet to become buried
in the sand at the world’s end,
lifted my face in the darkness
while from above fell
the histories of plant and animal;
fleshy manna - the saddest sight
my wooden eyes had seen.

It was in that darkness,
with my face lifted up
and my wooden lips praying,
I first began to doubt.

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