FALL 2013 (Issue 80)

Charles Wyatt


There are also divers other kinds of worms, which for color and shape alter even as the ground out of which the are got; as the marsh-worm, the tag-tail, the flag-worm, the dockworm. . .  Izaak Walton

Dragons I think these:
marsh-worm color of otter,
eyes full of fog, of glow bug,
but will not fly this creature.
Rather he will leap, his spines rattling.

The tag-tail is blue, a quirk
at the end of the bones he does not have.
He can be lured with a single feather,
even one brown of an owl.
He will come up to you
always from behind.

The flag-worm
is all cadenza – the orchestra in huge pause
behind him, a ruin of bows and one
dropped baton.
Oh he writhes like birdsong.
He is bouquet of worm,
a wind from the wrong woods.

Then dockworm sturdy
fellow miserable to be himself,
but he is fierce as winter,
as the ice he limps upon,
making of its spider-webbing
thunder – he cannot be found
until the fields slump with snow.
Fit through him the sharpest hook.