Shelled

To find the fault
With your thumbnail
To dig in a bit
Lightly at first
Edge to ledge

Like so many building scenes
Where the hero climbs from a window
Only to scurry like a careful centipede
Feelers at full stretch
Aiming in all directions
For sensual security

But you can't stay there
You must take that ledge
To another window
Or nearby balcony
Then you can breathe

Your senses already dulled
Ground back to nutmeg
Some shallow ingredient
That makes neither cake nor cider

Not by itself
So, then, to find that fault
Some silly crack
That continues to find thumbnail
And becomes a nuisance
Until you dig in

Apply moderate pressure
Then a more aggressive approach
Maybe even two thumbs
And two thumbnails

Then your fingers resemble a crab
Some ancient creature
Filled with purpose
And loose innards

But you'd never know
From pure pounds of pressure
Per inch or per venture or per century
Then some hinging and leverage

Some buried anxiety
Then a few million years
And we're good
It's like we were made for this
--
4.8.13