The Cut

woodpeckerhole

The sap you’ll bleed will tell the tale;

we all know the drill.

The  shock of the first prying probe,

the initial cut,

slices through more than skin.

But it’s the continual pounding,

the interminable perforation,

the ongoing flurry of jaw-jolting blows

that will have you screaming Uncle.

Just when you feel that the hammer has hit your heart

and defeat is inevitable,

the bird finds its worm,

and the real pest is revealed.

The blood you’ll cry

will cauterise the hole;

only the scab will

testify to your

cut

when you find the sky

with outstretched arms…

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The Worm

Nibbling from the inside out

Chewing softest flesh;

Uninvited wormy guest

Makes my heart his dish.

Nasty canker, pupal foe

Get thee hence from me;

I’ll not tolerate your feast –

The Truth will set me free!