Do you know the name of the average animal?
Not the dog,
Not the green-beaded frog,
Nor the white ocean monster lying flat –
Lower than that.
The curling one who comes out in the storm –
The middle one’s the worm.
Lift up your face, my love, lift up your mouth,
Kiss me and come to bed
And do not bow your mouth,
Longer on what is bad or what is good –
The dead are terribly misunderstood,
And sin and godhead are in the worm’s blind eye,
We’ll come to averages by and by.
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Comments about this poem (Drunken Girl by Muriel Rukeyser )
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