my father was a ten-year-old prophet.
he would go out to his grandmother's yard
& eat worms until they spoke through him.
i'm scared i am the same way so i avoid
grandmothers & yards & talking to worms. this morning
i saw a worm being consumed by a wave of ants.
they looked like water. in a past life, i drown in a green lake.
i can still hear the muffled birds above saying, "gone."
then, last year, we went canoing on your parent's lake
& everything was worms; even you & even the clouds.
i closed my eyes hoping it would pass. still, my father stands
in my every backyard. he eats worms. offers some to me.