A Small Fit

You hold your arm up by a single nail
Between your teeth without apparent effort
Steady with a poet's observation
Until I hear something?
A sound from you
and odd pop
To set things in motion
Your eyes call quickly
Far back behind them
Looking for confirmation that
Rushes (not a moment to waste!) out your mouth
In a mirthful cough
That sends you back a step with the recoil
And you bow with reverence
For life itself.