Poems given to me while spillin' tea on my keyboard, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.
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A foot emerges from a grave of blankets
Framed by dawn, beamed through a shaded window
Heralding the day’s resurrection
It’s all I can see of Her
It’s all I need to see
I love those toes for being part of that foot
And I love that foot for being part of the tease
When She puts them, in my face or hair
To pretend I have that sort of fetish
But this morning I do
For that foot has been sculpted in gray matter
An icon of the relationship it represents
People walk into your life today
Seeming importance
Are cast off with yesterday’s cell phone
But She stays.
I’m anchored to Her omnipresence
Basking in the light of her rituals
And smirk when she shoves a dirty toe in my ear
© 2006, Howard Abrams • Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a Creative Commons License (see details).
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