You call people worms as insult
Yet in all its wriggality
That which eats dirt,
Feeds nations.
A feeding tube for the resourceful,
A knot for tying for the bored,
A game for the children,
Brought forth by a living cord.
This worm pierced onto a hook
Sacrificed for my brother’s dinner
Caught on the Muskegon river,
I thank you for your life.
You who eat dirt,
Feed my family.
Primitive Poetry 
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