baby picture

when i'm not looking my
baby pictures turn into photos
of worms. it is really for the best.
i do not want to be small. 
the grape vine tells me i am 
on many lists. some good & some horrible.
sometimes i wonder if i stop taking
my meds if maybe the baby pictures
would return & there might be
a river that returns between me now
& the me who had more eyes. i do not know
if it miss feeling or i miss the kind
of art it gave me. in some ways i am lucky.
we didn't take a lot of baby pictures 
of my siblings. i have the most dedication.
even a little book recording my "firsts."
first national tragedy. first fire moon.
first neighbor running in the street
without eyes. one christmas we watched
this factory burn down. it used to be
right across from our house. i remember
a window full of babies. i was always 
trying to tell them, "come here, 
i have spearmint!" they couldn't get out.
if i had my way i would want my pictures
to show someone else. maybe someone 
who stays a worm forever. gets to be devoured
by a really good bird. one with feathers 
bright & endless. i do have one picture
of myself as a pilot. i am in an airplane
above the town. i point & there is the diner.
i point & there is the quarry where 
years ago another plane went down. 
an umbilical cord of smoke. i do not know
what the obsession is with going up 
in the sky when we die. i am looking forward
to the dirt. to joining my sibling worms. 
wriggling the soil. the sun, like a face
above a night. sometimes they'll offer me
the photos to take home. i say yes 
but leave them on the porch. i would rather
not see how much i have been devoured.
i like to think of each day as if i am waking up
as a fresh animal. all my hearts like
a rosary down my body. again & again,
here i am all worms.