Food For Worms

A complicated poem about love and death, extramarital affairs, murdering one's estranged wife and the unexpected consequences of such action. If the commentary is a little disarticulated, it's because I'm not entirely sure what happens at the end. Bring on the worms.


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Before we go to bed,
Sue said,
I need one thing, a golden ring.
Now that,
Said Nat,
I cannot give,
My dratted wife, she does still live.
Well, make her die,
If you wants I,
Sue hissed but sounded rather shy.
He did the deed,
She fed his need,
Until a blonde,
Across the pond,
Did catch his eye
And made him sly.
He asked the blonde
If she was fond
Of heaving pex
And sweaty sex.
She said, OK,
Do have your way,
But just one thing,
I need a ring.
He mopped his brow,
You need it now?
She bobbed her head,
And Sue was dead,
The golden ring
Had done its thing.
And if this tale
Makes you turn pale,
Think not of lusts
Or heaving busts,
But know that terms
Make food for worms.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved

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