Confined

It’s stiff and hard... knotted

to each other, tight knots,

I try with my nails that are cut

in a slightly curved line,

cut close to the flesh--

I regret cutting my nails--

they are bloody treacherous knots;

I have never learned the fine art

of keeping long sharp nails

I have never tried chewing hard things

and too much brushing off of dirt

has left the teeth a bit less of enamel

I regret keeping my mouth so clean

and teeth so tender

for so long periods of time,

slowly, surely they have tied my hands

in treacherous knots--

when you grow, grow wild

with longer nails, stronger teeth

and fiery eyes and elfin charms;

for the art of living should make the soul

 an eagle and a bird of paradise too,

to taste the wine of life—

so stay calm my soul, until I learn,

learn the art of performance

for the knots of general perceptions

and conceptions are always treacherous.

For http://dversepoets.com/2015/09/17/open-link-night/