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Worm Food

Dad once took me fishing
When I was a happy boy
And taught me how to hook a worm
plunge my fingers into a gooey cup
Where the little things squirmed
In dirt and pluck out a juicy one,
Hold its length toward the hook
And just, go ahead, push,
like putting my arm
Through a coat sleeve.
We all die one day, he said.
Don’t you worry.

poem by John W. McEwers
Added by Poetry Lover
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