Exoskeleton
I attempt to molt
My hard exoskeleton,
Exposing the soft
And raw meat of my insides—
Vulnerable flesh of mine.
I crawl for a time
In the unforgiving air
As it bakes my skin.
The light of the sun presses
Me further into the dirt.
The cool and smooth rocks
Rub against me like a rust,
A corroding floor.
I scrape my body along
As a snail would—so slowly.
The gentle salt spray
Curdles me, a foaming lump
Traveling through sand.
Sodium streams stain my prints,
A fossil made of the past.
My back is spineless,
Formless without its firm shell,
Unfit to support.
I flop like a dry fish would
As if deprived of water.
To protect myself,
I callous stone around me:
A coral shelter.
Safe within the walls I've built,
I remain fully contained.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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