like a child with tweezers -
picking, plucking the seams -
clumsily jabbing at the stitches
with a blunt needle, trying
to create that frayed effect -
that gap in the fabric,
that lull in the sentence into
which i could slot my words
like spare change down a well
where rusty carcasses lie still,
barely polluting the water -
in hopes of finding a fault,
freshly sprung, within that
stagnant, unfading fullness
in which the world rests
untouched