exordium

I am Worst
for the job no one wants,
for the chlorophyll,
for the clean linens.

I am Worst
that dithers at the bat,
that dresses the weather
in blue and pink cozys.

I am Worst
at the mantle's lip-hair,
at the comfortable pivot,
leg-locked and overbooked.

I am Worst
teasing the embassies,
absolute ease in the hall,
significant armistice.

I am Worst
bar the home-cooking,
fearful of the bar,
drawn by a moth's shadow.

I am Worst
splayed against a train,
sand-drenched at the bay,
dripping with piss.

I am Worst
who sleeps entrenched,
who palms a wandering spider,
who awakens by the spring.