Borer-Worms Poem by Rod M.Peters

I tip the crystal goblet of my soul
And pour out the water of mercy
But it cuts like exploding shrapnel
The parched face of the thirsty.

I take off my warm overcoat
Wrap it ‘round the bones of Humanity
But the skeleton whips out a dagger
And stabs me with insanity.

I bring a slice of unleavened bread
Close to a toothless mouth agape
But there spring rows of sharp teeth
That bite me, as were I a sweet grape.

I make out menacing clouds above,
Pale magicians riding gathering-storms,
Their flight unfolding a black shroud,
Their laughter shooting borer-worms.