Worm Picking Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Worm picking

Men of pen, normally, are poorest.
For tummy and clothes have to work
(Are abused as red-necks; rich exploits.)

Days could write; chose hard job for the night
(Picking worms)

Could be fun; for first night though dagger in my heart.

Two sisters work in bait, the job’s lords loaded us in a bus.
(It was junk.)
Doubtlessly both smart, abusing the needy as normal.

Herald is driver; works days-nights
He explained to colleague and friend:
“I have sold my rights soul” for himself two hours.
“I am ordered…left…and…right.”

Finally we got there with two cans and gloves
On foreheads the miners' flash-lights;
Training abstract; short, concise: “Go pick worms.”

If unknown, strange, everything is too hard,
Everywhere; for first time.

In the bus Kim told me:
“Some have sex…”

Neighboured worms were busy making love
My method in a while, to ambush love makers.

Inhuman; it was fun.