What Feet Know
The earth and its subterfuge.
Gravity and the points between here and there.
And sometimes the rasp of grainy mud
clenched between toes,
or a rock under the arch,
an explanation too pointed
for display on a page,
too hard, too much for flesh to bear.
No constellations foment underground.
Nothing there orbits a companion.
No light but for that darkness the heel scrapes away.
“What Feet Know” was featured on Postcard Poems and Prose Magazine in December 2016, and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, available Available at Amazon.Com and Here.
O at the Edges 
Very, very nice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Allyson!
LikeLike
Great read
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
Great. I especially like,
“an explanation too pointed for display on a page,”
Maybe you were talking about a harsh reality, but I read it more of something with such precision, as in God speaking directly to you, not anyone else, that it becomes a perfect secret to live by.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It is indeed a perfect secret to live by. One of many.
LikeLike
Voice adds so much … thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m pleased you like it, Jazz. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your voice makes it even easier to visualize.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Ken. It’s an odd little poem, I must admit. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This voice! *swoon*
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am blushing. And you know I’ve never liked my voice, which seems to be a common malady among poets. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
A shared affliction, to be sure.
LikeLiked by 1 person