名人诗歌|Worms

Some days he'd rub two pegs^{1 together}

until they made a greasy^{2 hum}

like rain， the sound of moles³

grawing the dirt's grain， the song

soils sing before a quake，

and the red bodies would hang

above the ground in a kind of confusion

or ecstasy^{4. They would writhe5.}

The farmer showed me

the way worms made love

in concrete， coffin-shaped beds

on mattresses^{6 of moss7 and peat， slipping}

under the rubber collars of each other，

joyous^{8， shy， nervous， taking turns.}

Androgynous worms， their pale larva

rising like dew on black earth.

He told me about the sweet spot

in the warm dirt where he found

the wild ones， night crawlers

a foot long. How he worked

day and nightplastic sky

dripping on his neckpreached

on Sundays， sixteen years old，

reeking^{9 of worm sweat.}

We drove around his slow

Louisiana Baptist town， the square

garlanded with green metallic^{10 boughs11，}

red Noels， though it was October.

There was one movie house.

The Bijou of course. First floor

expensive， gummy， for whites only.

Blacks sat in the rafters for a quarter.

Filmy bayous surrounded

blank brown cotton fields，

fluttered with white heron.

once a black man walked

by a white girl and she ran.

He never said hello. The citizens

dragged him from prison，

burned the man alive.

But that's an old story.

This one's newa black boy

sat in that same prison five years，

innocent too， and when the town freed him

he headed for the Victorian house

he'd watched each night like television

the illuminated^{12 window}

of an eighty-year-old couple

he knifed them both， raped^{13 the woman，}

what felons^{14 become legend to.}

If you tend worms your whole life，

dig their beds， stir the eggs，

sort the dark segmented bodies，

you'll lose the pattern of your own

flesh. The whorls of your fingers

will vanish. A worm can eat anything

two by four， dog， human.

I know this world， said the farmer，

I've listened to worms my whole life

stirring in slime. I know where

we come from， and despite all our slick

designs， I know where we return.

This town's passed more than once

through the slippery tunnels of worms.