MY RIGHT FOOT
Long bound by hard
leather
the toes now hook
rightward
warped by the torque
of a hundred million
steps.
Each knuckle a knoll
worn bare but for a
few lone hairs,
whip-like reeds on
desert dunes.
Under pale, tender
skin
blue rivers fork,
wriggle, worm-like
over the top tendon’s
ridge, down
to the arch’s curve,
flattened
by more than forty
thousand miles
of pound and thud,
enough to go around
the Earth
from bedroom to
kitchen, front step, bus stop
and back again. All bending
to the flanging bulb
of heel,
browned, creviced,
callused
by numberless pivots
and turns.
MY
LEFT FOOT
Originally arched
like a raised eyebrow
you’ve been bowed, bent
to the level of your
companion:
severely
pronated,
the doctors say.
The price of your
conformity:
the tendons and muscles
wrapped, stretched,
hunkered downward
with each thumping
step. Supine one,
you are the best foot
I should have put
forward. Now
pain flares up
from the heel’s
inflamed ligature,
a constant throbbing
awaiting scalpel and a
graft.
*
Brian Campbell is a poet, singer-songwriter, editor, translator, and teacher. His
third full-length collection, Shimmer
Report, has just been published (Ekstasis Editions, 2015). He is also the
author of A Private Collection (Sky
of Ink Press chapbook, 2014),Passenger
Flight (Signature Editions, 2009), Guatemala
and Other Poems (1994) and Undressing
the Night (Editorial Lunes, Costa Rica, 2007), a translation of the
selected poems of Francisco Santos. ... about BrianCampbell ... about Shimmer Report
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