A while ago, I told my boyfriend that

I won’t put the worm on the hook

because I think the worm looks 
                     like my clit. We were naked on the bed

            examining said specimen when he said no
way, but I maintained that to me it does,

and he asked, “Do you want me
                     to get the worms?” Live Bait,

            a Styrofoam cup in the fridge.
I did.

He did.
                       The worms looked

           cold. Since then, quail feathers, a snake shed, 
the deckle edge around

Gone fishing.

I wake up 
                       a warm body

left to sleep in.