WORM
nerve
endings no
beginnings
glass eyes
inside
the cabinet
quiet
they are
safe
here no
light
will polish
off their
edges
now
so many
suns
unmilking
planets
nevertheless
they are
lustrous
they are
biding
their time
nerves will
cut up
the wind
cut up
rose
bush cut
cut cut
immaculate
particulates
drifting
clone
a body
rose bush
o rose
a rose
WORM
the red ‘pon
the yellow
road
is a pomp
atop it
pompoms
atop
the pommel
horse
rides wild
and free
to aplomb
the plinth
pomeranian
fury punt
up the
pomelo
day and
gramercy
is the
plage
gramercy
in the
flouncy
pounce of
once
ounce
by ounce
or plack
hoi polloi
arise
heretical
the hoi
polloi
troubadours
roam
an age
the middle
seducing
with tendrils
WORM
we live
in an
archive
the archive
is diato-
maceous
seeding
earth
with
frustules
like jewels
they are
bird-like
perch’d
amid the
cuticles
and
singing
wending
wind thru
candied
architectures
shell
of cicada
cicadaesque
so on
whirligig
earth
we ornament
ourselves
increasingly
no less
the fury
everywhere
time falls
sequinning
come see
inside a
sequin
seas
WORM
a sphincter
listens
places the
whole
listening
on the
fuzzed line
between
mass
listen in
stethoscope
the hours
make
a mess
a sphincter
parrots
its medium
its heart
pushed inside
out and
end to end
pulls taffy
like out of
itself like
a neck from
a carapace
toward
the plash
zone’s
opened gut
of hearts
amassing
onward
sphincter
why don’t
you mash
up time-
lines
make
a pearl
Biographical Statement
Andy Sia is a poet from Brunei, currently residing in Cincinnati.