Barefoot
I learned the world through the bottoms of my feet, barein the creeks of summer, stepping on pebbles, the squidgeof moss between my toes. On hot asphalt, the hop and skipover cracks, feet already toughened by bramble, dirt, the pricklyground of pine needles. Callused and ready to roam the rough hallsof July, of August, of early September, through acres of blackberryand bristled fountain grass, the spiny clumps of cocklebur,and foxtail. Through clusters of quartz, agate, feldspar. Small,black ants crawled over my toes. Fish nibbled at themin the skinny creek. It wasn’t summer until I’d been bitten,ankles pocked with the raised bumps left by mosquitoes,flea bites from Toof Toof the cat, who liked to roam the fieldthen settle back on the shag rug where I’d sink my toes into the plushpile…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, January/February 2021