When we were small, my best friend once tore an earthworm in
two
just because she could.
Five hearts pumped warm worm blood onto the sidewalk.
The end with the head took a slow beat
and got right to moving, right to forgetting about the other half.
It turns out earthworms can regrow their
tails —
granted it’s the right kind of worm, granted enough of it’s left.
After we stopped being friends, after she said we grew apart,
it felt like that, like part of myself was lost to careless hands.
I took a breath to heal, to cut bangs and find a new lunch table.
Until, right on time,
I grew.
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