Poems

Barefoot

Barefoot

I walk the night barefoot,

my toes splayed against wet

moon-mirrored roads.

My heels steal away shards

to be released the next step.

 

Shrouded in misted black,

I ask the stars to fall

to light my way.

They do.

Beginning as a fracture-

 

the heavens split into a

vast crevace.

The flecks of silver and light

drain onto me,

imbedding into my wrapping paper skin.

 

More and more, they fall,

and farther and farther, I walk.

In the dark,

I lose the souls of my feet.

The bits of flesh trail behind,

snagged by roadrocks.

But I still venture the night,

miles past the crest of the earth,

until my blood drains out.

Miles beyond the view of the moon

until my skin and bones have painted the road behind.

And I am gone, my body has spilled

from my bare feet

and I'm just a shell of constellations.

Maybe if I could affix myself above the clouds,

I would be gazed at like something beautiful, ethereal.

A cold beauty, out of reach and pain.

 

But I still cannot float to the skies

and glisten in the blue black.

I cannot walk the stairway of air

into the silver dust.

My bare feet

will not both leave

the road I am on.