To My Feet

To my feet,,,

oh,

my dear feet,

out of sight

but certainly

not out of mind

you scream

of fatigue

if we so much

as take a thousand steps

mostly

because I barely

support you,

fitting you

into $10 glorified cardboard

flats.

you scream

of the cold!

all ten of your

wiggly lil representatives

dramatically fainting,

losing all feeling

if it so much as reaches

-10C outdoors

mostly

because I barely

warm you

denying the chillier days

by delaying the undusting

of my winter boots

for as long as possible.

here’s

a glass to you,

for carrying me through

these hardships

all the same.

***

Prompted by Margaret Atwood via #PoetryInVoice.

Write a poem about your feet.

Or a poem to your feet.

Or about any feet. Those that wash up on British Columbian beaches, still in their shoes, might be inspiring.

I once wrote an ode to eyebrows in high school as an English assignment and have since lost my only copy, but maybe someday I’ll write its twin. Would you read it?

***

Lucy (@ramyeonjpg) is a budding poet who jots down all the wildest pieces of her life into poetry form. By day, she's a graduate student. By night, she crochets an unreasonable number of scrunchies to de-stress. As someone who never runs out of ideas, she aids other writers who run into writer's block with weekly poetry (or writing!) prompts. Feel free to join in here!

A piece first published here.