~ Layers … ~
Not as one such cozy camouflaging jacket,
But elementarily — an ‘Unturned Key’ ..
As they do —
Envelope little pink freshness,
Or sometime, just nothingness ..
Dainty, flimsy, my core,
Fragile as that of a neat egg,
Of next to my neighborhood hen,
Spewed out, foul yet afresh ..
Yonder — I wallow, delighted,
In its ‘Profane Mundanity’, as of suburbs ..
Thereby … Layer by layer,
Defile my essence,
Peel my substance,
My shell —
Trueness that I had woven, tight —
Knitting it around my soul, my chi …
Skin me, ruthlessly,
With thy serrated fingers,
Thy nails, brusquely,
Piercing, even beforehand …
Shed that brittleness,
Of trifling I do garb —
In thine eyes ..
Bearing down the scab, smugly,
Astutely scaling my picket,
Sousing the crust it held, for years, in place,
Uncase the nakedness, unrivaled beyond any eon,
To find, and thus learn —
Not what thee did much presume, anticipated,
But what I held subliminally — to proffer,
Maybe, some unripe but honed, nothingness,
Ah … Just a darling … Relic … ‘Naught’!