Cleaning up the place for a move
And under a shoe in a musty corner
It wriggled and squirmed as it was exposed
My foot raised ready for execution
But there was a knock on my chest
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
Like Fyodor, freed at the last moment
God, what a funny woman!
Like all women, incomprehensible to me
Asking all these pesky questions like
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
Perhaps so, perhaps so, after all
You loved me when I was a worm
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