Hi! I should have mentioned that the previous poem with written solely by me, without the estimable help of A.Grayson, but he and I are beginning a poetry challenge, the rules of which I'm horribly unclear about. But it will involve us both writing more poems. Today's poem is, I think, free from the restrictions of the challenge. Enjoy.
Here's my poem:
MAGGOTS
Interrupting my sleep,
maggots swell in feverish
fits. The skin I’ve always
assumed was mine bursts forth
like an inadequate sack. It’s
always about sacks with you.
The white of their skin(?)
turned to grey in twilight
I couldn’t see, I was
holding my writhing hands
in front of my face, larvae
swooping inside each open hole.
The next day I was immaculate.
In the mirror, the maggot-white
bathroom wall was there but I
was not, I looked behind me,
then back. Had I been eaten?
Where were my remains? I always
Wanted to have remains, but this
way wasn’t fun.
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