After the Rain

Before the wind erases
the sheen from the pavement,
I find it littered with bodies
of earthworms, like after-
party streamers.

I want to gather them,
as if they're only resting,
and set them in my garden,
among the careful seeds.
I want to apologize for the deluge
that drowned them.

But bodies in the street can't be
resurrected, can't be
laid to perfect rest, so we walk
among them with careful feet,
avert our eyes – avert

our own quiet bodies.

C.V. Blaisdell lives just north of Boston, Massachusetts. Her poetry most recently appeared in One Hundred Memories (UK), Portrait of New England Magazine, and Third Wednesday.

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