Shells

Your long fingers are curled underneath the collar
Of my overcoat

And crabs are doing whatever
They must do to loosen their shells

In preparation for an exposed
Scuttle beneath the waves

I sense you are about to peel the shoulders
Of the coat back, and help me

Slip my arms out

While serpents, in darkness
Metabolize swallowed mice, loosening the translucent skin

That once glowed upon them

You undo the buckles of my armor
Your hands find my body

The world sighs, seeking release from
What once covered it

And now you reach into me
And peel off the dead skin

Of my former life.