I screamed at the moon
in the silence of night,
as the worm writhed beneath my tongue.
He paced the floor
of education's cage
thrashing frustration
with all of his might.
To free the beast
would surely mean
a neoplastic catochism,
and pyrotoxins that would linger on
could scorch the moon
and burn the sun.
So I will lull the worm to sleep
with a lullaby of determination.












Dee








38 old applause
