POEM
The Late Worm
The worms
which had been
thick are thin
upon the ground
now that it's gotten
later. They stick
against the path,
their pink chapped
and their inching
labored. It's a
matter of moisture
isn't it? Time, a
measure of wet,
shrinking, the
drier you get.
Source: Poetry (January 2008).
This poem originally appeared in the January 2008 issue of Poetry.
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Born in California in 1945, Kay Ryan is the author of several books of poetry, including . . . MORE »
