Armadillidiidae

I try not to bury
My face in this obelisk
My new chiropractor
Has a strange way of mimicking of people
Pretending to be them
Looking at their phones and computers
Their necks
He says
Inching forward
By as much as four inches over their lifetime
Seems extreme
But then I bury myself
Partially for privacy
Partially out of habit
But this obelisk
Provides
And so
You must feed it
Neck

Maybe
In the future
This will change
But no time soon
Because
Like the pillbug
We are most comforted
By our ability
To curl

When we
Get into the fetal
Stop looking out the windows
Focus on feeding
Through tube or luge
When we see the world
With eyelids open or closed
We breathe underwater
Become our best interests
Webbed and tailed

Then
Something strange happens
When we are forced
To wake up
Our instinct
For light and color
Tactile response
And sound production
Takes over everything
And we live for all of us
Whether we know it or not
Wish to do so or not

Little woodlice know
Cuckoo wasps know
Conglobation is not just a mechanism
It is an origin story
You can only see
Once it is
Stretched out
--
5.10.13