Feet
Location
Walks with Oscar
end in unwanted exercise. Feet pound,
ground grows long like taffy
his black fish egg eyes look into
mine. Feet, scratching, he trots
further away. Feet, weathered from a day's work,
willing to run on. I've never been an athlete.
I've always been an animal
lover. My feet and I are in this
together, we chase a lover who
doesn't love us. He's been
tempted by the fruit of another-
freedom. My feet look up at me,
socks soaked and mad. Oscar
wins the race. I hold my knees,
heave on an inhaler. The previous
owners said he was an angel.
My feet have given up, they
tell me in a firm voice, “No
more.”We wait. Through the tears
I yell, “You'll get tired of it!
You'll get tired of it and then
you'll come back and love me.”)