Discovery Channel Julia Gordon-Bramer Tom told me of a woman he saw on TV Quite mad, she’d cut holes in her skin and placed earthworms in to take residence in her flesh She named them all; they were her pets, her friends, her poems, she was that alone Like words, they lived and grew blind, fat and sexless, they stretched stanzas, broke rules and wriggled among blood, bone and tissue until they took over and had to be cut She screamed so, how she never wanted the edit She was the good Mother Earth She was fertile, she was meal for worms and full of life She never wanted to let her babies go