Maggie Riordan

Feeding the fish

On the top shelf of the open pantry door-won’t-shut

sits the Can Of Worms.

Been there for 19 years and

Mom saves it for a special occasion

which is not My Birthday.

I crave them

take the Can out rolling

on the living room floor

can opener spinning I dump them on the carpet

coming up from the floorboards

My fingers squishing and curling between them.

Mom watches

Sister watches

Brother watches

Dad pretends not to see as I shove them

handfuls down my throat.

They are so slimy and greasy and I can swallow without chewing

but I chew them too

many for my stomach

DadMomBrotherSister do you see me making a mess

of this carpet

and myself?

I cannot close the can for I have eaten them

all on my 22nd birthday.

About the Poet

Maggie Riordan is a newish writer and virgo from rural Wisconsin and about to reveive their B.A. from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. They love to write about queerness, ambiguously platonic friendship, and anything gross and spine-tingling. This is their first published work. They currently reside in Madison, WI where they are learning, writing, and searching for their next adventure.