Hunger

As I passed a post-rain graveyard

the smell of worms filled my nostrils
I stopped and wondered who last visited
this row of stones
how long and who last saw those bones.
And now, after a storm, the worms all bloated
slime and slither and eat whats rotted.
Do the ghosts mind? I stand and ponder.
Or are they grateful
for any kind of company.