No one is safe, not even from worms,
like the one in my mozzarella sandwich.
The worm in our relationship,
come alive. A giant black bean
until I noticed it blindly squirming,
covered with oil from the pesto,
a little tomato. Ribbed like my favorite shirt,
but blessed with animated life.
I looked again – how easy it is
for me to see life where there is none.
It’s moving I mouthed to you,
knowing it would ruin everything.
I could see its little legs, grasping for the ceiling.
After that I don’t know what happened.
The sullen novelist finished his reading.
You didn’t look up again.
Then we threw away the plastic containers
full of sandwiches and worm.
What happened to the worm?
It had come to tell me something.
A tiny Elijah, and I threw it away.
All it had to do was lie there and writhe.
Did it suffocate? Or eat the rest of the sandwich,
in the garden of earthly delights.