Talking About the Voracious Jumping Worm
In childhood, all worms are crazy--
remember the swamp? We drank it.
When something monstrous appeared
it was always ourselves, masks lowered.
Then I met the neighbors in the woods
with a blanket and a bag of Jax.
And my brother jumped out the window
wearing toy wings.
Some afternoons I absorb the world.
Nights are another story.
I’ve left for you a soft landing.
A garden that can’t be sown.
It turns out what you love
is everything—even what you spat out
in the bleached-out pine barrens, waiting all night
for a drink—
me, and the rest of the weeds,
emerald ash borer, gypsy
moth, loosestrife—we’re working on it:
this goddamn golden mouth of sunlight
ravenous—ravenous—ravenous
remember the swamp? We drank it.
When something monstrous appeared
it was always ourselves, masks lowered.
Then I met the neighbors in the woods
with a blanket and a bag of Jax.
And my brother jumped out the window
wearing toy wings.
Some afternoons I absorb the world.
Nights are another story.
I’ve left for you a soft landing.
A garden that can’t be sown.
It turns out what you love
is everything—even what you spat out
in the bleached-out pine barrens, waiting all night
for a drink—
me, and the rest of the weeds,
emerald ash borer, gypsy
moth, loosestrife—we’re working on it:
this goddamn golden mouth of sunlight
ravenous—ravenous—ravenous
Wendy Cannella’s poetry appears or is forthcoming in Balancing Act 2 (Littoral Books), Crab Creek Review, Mid-American Review, Mom Egg Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Salamander, Solstice, and Rhino, among others. Her essay “Angels and Terrorists” is featured in The Room and the World: Essays on the Poet Stephen Dunn from Syracuse University Press. She serves as co-chair on the board of directors of the Portsmouth Poet Laureate Project, and lives in York Harbor, Maine.