Nick

9 3 R N I C K N A T A N I A R O S E N F E L D 1475–85; obscurely akin to Old English gehnycned, wrinkled, Old Norse hnykla, to wrinkle You nicked me now give me back, un-wrinkled. In your pocket, I became a crone. Heart like a sagging bag: you, thief, like the doctor who said I had a hoary womb, pierced it. Senescent or not, it still bled, a mystery solved only with a kind of arrow, whose point had me gasping like Teresa with her robes about her – so many beautiful folds! Each upon each like layers of skin one sloughs o√ lifelong, flayed by one’s own thieving disposition. ...