-the earthworm, the bird, and the porter at the riverbank-

then there’s the story of the red-breasted robin perched

upon the housing of a decorative, freestanding

lamp in the front yard approaching the road.

the lamp works, but is useless in the world of illumination,

and there's a slow-twisting earthworm in the bird's beak.

the succulent earthworm moves as if agonizing its circumstance,

as the bird jabs its head in sharp defensive angles, but

otherwise appears disinterested in the captured nightcrawler.

my mind is half-awake which means I'm half-asleep, but

it may not be, that the worm is writhing in agony, or that

the robin redbreast is disinterested. maybe they're in love.

maybe the bird is carrying the worm to the other side

of the property for its safety, like when old-man Reprobus carried

the snot-nosed juvenile, Emmanuel to the other side of the river.

but this is all conjecture, and relative only to the immediacy

of the current situation,–– whereas old man Reprobus

just hung around the riverbank waiting for slackers who wanted

a free lift to get to the other side. what a schmuck,

deserving of his stripped-down position among the better saints.

and besides, the bird ate the earthworm, anyway.

Swansea