My Feet

A love poem.

once, years back, i adored my feet;

the only long bony thing about babyfat me.

such elegant attenuation, stretched barefoot under the oak tree in childhood summer,

knobbed toe joints, visible metatarsal splay.

with puberty came punishment in the form of ballet toe shoes, cowboy boots, pikes;

on a beach in bonaire a man told me bury your feet in the sand, they are the only ugly thing about you.

my feet, undaunted, took my shame, ran it into the sea.

old now, i am grateful my crone feet (marbled blue and red, bunions as wide as kansas)

move me with sufficient ease;

beauty at its very most beautiful is what you see when you get there,

which explains my sensible shoes.