Maggots
Maggots, maggots
oh lord, maggots
they’re crawling through the
cracks between the wood
and they’re
swimming through the mountains
of trash
in the white plastic bag that
we left on the deck
and they’re
writhing on the floor
before my feet
like
hostages at the mercy of
their keeper.
Maggots, maggots
oh lord, maggots
I’m running through the
house taking deep breaths
and I’m
tearing off my red dress
and my
fiance’s red jacket
(the cats are meowing)
and I’m
opening the door
to the bathroom
and
turning on the hot, hot water
of the shower.
Maggots, maggots
oh lord, maggots
I think I see them
crawling on my toes
and they’re
climbing up the shower
walls and
drowning in the drain water
pooling in the tub
and they’re
scooting up my legs
but wait, there are
no
maggots here, no maggots in the
shower, none.
But now what am I
to do with the
real ones?
Copyright © Caroline Guenther | Year Posted 2011
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