A Worm In Earnest
Oh little worm who burrows, burrows
Making tiny, hollow furrows
Deep beneath my sagging mound
Here within the loggy ground;
Boasting of your courage brave
Of your campaigns in my grave;
Blazing trails through wilderness
Braving stagnant lakes of cess;
Pioneering through the muck
Making camp within the guk.
Tell us, little worm, please do
How the welling slush did goo
When you opened up the hull;
How you crept around the skull,
Where the water level stood
When you peeked beneath the hood,
How you traversed all alone
Many leagues of softened bone,
Where you found the floating lobe
Of my ear, how lay the robe
On my shanks. And did you note
Those loosened scabs on my throat?
When you skided down my foot
How large was the myrtle root
That had spread between my toes?
What was that within my nose?
When you took those playful nips
At the scale upon my hips
Are you sure that there you saw
A drooling fester, fat and raw?
I will take you at your word
If you wipe away that curd.
You must learn to be discreet;
Form a habit to be neat.
As your winding way you squirm
My blessings on you, little worm.

— Grady L. McMurtry

Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, June 1994.