shot glass
Issue # 3 January 2011
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Lois Marie Harrod

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If Deception Be the Worm, Robins We

Grass shivers with worm-shock,
even on the road, we cock

our little brown heads to concrete
hear what we cannot beak,

the tick inside the turtle's shell,
flip earth on her back, quarter to twelve.

Then sun says, "Here's food."
The moon says, "Here's falsehood."

And the robin, what does the robin say,
the early bird catches the lay,

that song that lies, and eats.
If deception be the worm, robins we.

Think on it—gullet travels back to slake.
How can we discern quick from quake?