The well

With an elastic arm, I reach
Into a dark well
Where as early as yesterday
I would cut my hand
On glass shards
Looking for gold kernels

So many kernels
I’ve fetched and swallowed
Must be ten times
My own weight
Yet, all came out
Whole, undigested

This morning
I reached in again
A fishing wire arm
Felt cold stone
At the bottom
Pushed it, with my bare palm