Worm Wood

---

The husk worms stand still,
Almost tree-like—
Each less and less visible—
In the white, acid-flash
Scorched air; the earth
Salt-crusted with lye.
Noxious gases
Are all that remain,
Remnant of
Worm’s meat
Digested.

Their branch-like tentacles
Reach out to feast
On beasts of air.

No one dare,
Unless unaware,
Ever venture

There.

So, please—dear child,
Have a care.
I know that
Your swing set was there,
But you’re now in the know.
We cannot stick around,
We have to go—
No, that is not snow.

Trust me, you cannot touch it
For acid truly burns,
And that lye comes directly
From those worms.

But we do have to go,
Once we leave here
Then I can show.
I have gifts and
Turkish Delights,

Presents for you,
Ones beyond this fright.
I know, I know—

Precious, one—I know.
This was not like this
Last night—before I arrived.
Thank G…goodness I came when I did.

Now, let’s go.
I can hold you so you don’t burn—
You’re so smart but wait your turn—
Yes, yes I have special shoes
To carry you.

No struggle, no need to fight,
No need to show you’re right.
I can get you away from this horrid sight,
Away from lye and away from light.

Here, give me your hand,
I can lift you where I stand,
Honestly, there’s no need to scoff,
You can come, or I’ll steal you off.
Either way, it’s destination Leveler’s Land.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

Tittu