Worm Farm

Worm Farm

 

Daddy bought a case, a half-slab circle

and filled it with dirt. He emptied the worms,

shook them from the container until they fell,

growing wings in ways they weren’t meant. They crawled

across the surface and then burrowed,

neatly tucking heads into the dark. I watched

through the side as they moved, slithered, snakes

into the unknown. Wanting more, I asked,

Daddy, when can we add the slugs?

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