The blood worm ate its way through money
Like maggots in golden egg to find the
papyrus grass contained no prophecy
That wasn’t worth the threadbare currency
it was under written by.
the misconception of lighting up your fears
That were here before the arrival of a souvenir
you misread as a cursive scarab.
Laying in Leafing litter repressing
Hungry Autumnal thoughts of words used
By those with much to gain understanding
the vowel a knife laying in the mouth of
running cutter ant .
I shall pluck you a eyelash to pin to your
shawl Blood worm money.