Feet

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.”)