The Devil’s Laces

Sometimes
I get trapped in my shoes.
I pull the free end of the knot
And the laces cinch,
Spitefully tight.
I’m sitting, getting ready for bed.
I can’t take my pants off
With my shoe still on.
Panic, okay, sure.
But I own scissors.
Pick pick pick pick picking
Feels like progress.
Something loosens. Stops.
Everything tightens again.
I can’t quite see what I’m doing,
And I cut my fingernails yesterday.
At last, one long strand of shoelace
Pulls free
Apparently uninvolved in the knot.
Those scissors are looking better.
Pick pick pick pick picking
Progress,
This time for sure.
Is it teasing me?
Maybe?
Maybe not.
Something loosens,
The knot goes slack,
And I am free!
Now for the left.

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