Today, I washed your tiny feet in the kitchen sink,
the left one cupped in my hand like a closed mussel shell.
I cleaned in between your pebble toes,
around your calloused heel, hardened
from two years of climbing patio chairs
and dancing on linoleum.
The layers of grime from a backyard afternoon
peeled away as if I were an archeologist
excavating an ancient piece of earthenware. [Read more…]