Fingernails

My fingernails bruise and grow
In jagged summits and snarls.
But I will cut then even,
Smoothing away their threat.

In jagged summits and snarls
are wild, woolly madmen
that, too, smooth away their threats
with deceptive coats of style.

Are those wild, woolly madmen
any different than me, grooming,
with deceptive coats of style,
this archaic, ragged body?

Any difference in my grooming
now is simply a coincidence with
this archaic and ragged body;
Noticing has made me self-conscious.

Now, simply, a coincidence:
I cut them uneven.
Noticing makes me self-conscious,
but my fingernails still bruise and grow.