I peel down ~ pick at the flaking scabs

I unfurl

A news paper left on the porch in the rain
A fern
in one of those science movies of the Precambrian

The itch becomes unbearable
and i’m bored
I peel down
pick at the flaking scabs
(ouch)
pull gently at the integument

Under all the geologic layers
the striations. . .

Is there a chewy surprise center?
(tootsie pop reference)
Or am i just a ghost in a box
A Schrödinger’s experiment

Except
when you open the box
you never see the ghost
but when you close the box back up
the ghost is there

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

2 thoughts on “I peel down ~ pick at the flaking scabs”

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