Like a frame within a frame the fossil
carried a carcass, a carapace, 

and its own casket in another casket,
its own natural sarcophagus. 

I never told anyone this story:
in a summer like this I ate a nectarine

until its rough corduroy pit, continued
rolling and chewing it until it hinged

open, and an inert spider, sitting 
in white wisp, was inside like a small jewel.

How does a thing feel real. The layers
comprising me are, reductively, soft

hard, soft, an easy sift to the truth 
but the hard sell and swallow done anyway.      

__

Is as it had not been—      (Dickinson)

I'm interested in double-takes and double natures: when one thing gives (a) way to another thing. On a related note, I wish Kinder eggs were legal here.