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Worms and Black Holes

by Matthew Zangen

The worms are in exodus,
pressing out of flooded grass: a green gasp
of seasoned prayers
in shade of flung branches:
budding fingers, spread like praise,
sprayed with air
demanded down by saintly cliffs:
monoliths of calm
carved by ancient rains
from sacred clouds:
touchless lovers bathed
by their mirror moon:
witness of the sun:
a flame of patron worship
spiraling in chorus
with a litany of sister stars
chanting around a singular dark core:
the true father, thirsty and unseen,
host to light it cannot reveal,

and out and over around again,
counted billions more families
without testament
explode away still
from a momentous edge,
all to make space
for the worms
to escape their drown of mud
and dry in awe
under their terrific sky.

04/10/2019

Posted on 04/10/2019
Copyright © 2020 Matthew Zangen

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Glenn Currier on 04/10/19 at 03:45 PM

A festival of metaphors and images - had my mind whirring, looking out in my backyard from the garden room to see for myself. Thanks Matthew.

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