It's the Word of the Day podcast for November 16th.
Today's word is writhe, spelled W-R-I-T-H-E.
Writhe is a verb.
To writhe is to twist one's body from side to side.
The word is also often used when the body or a bodily part is twisting in pain.
Here's the word used in a sentence from lithub.com by James Folta.
The creatures named after riders are mostly bugs, which makes sense.
There are a lot of those little guys writhing around,
and I imagine most of them escaped our attention for long enough that science had to start reaching for new names.
And a lot of them are wasps.
Dante has two wasps named after him, Marx has two, Didion has one, Dickens has two,
Zola has two, Thoreau has seven, and Shakespeare has three wasps and a bacterium.
Dubakov has a lot of butterflies, naturally.
The word writhe wound its way to us from the old English verb writhe, meaning to twist.
and that ancestral meaning lives on in the words current uses,
most of which have to do with twists of one kind or another.
Among the oldest of these uses is the meaning to twist into coils or folds,
but in modern use writhing is more often about the physical contortions of one suffering from debilitating pain or attempting to remove oneself from a tight grasp,
as say a snake from a hawk's talons.
The word is also not infrequently applied to the twisting bodies of dancers.