Jody Zolli

A final mile I am made to walk
On disgruntled grains of sand
Grown to boulders beneath my feet.

Wearing, tearing
Blistered skin frays
Opens moist mouths screaming.

Turns out you´re someone else´s shoes.
Creative calluses did what they could
But the truth will out, as will a bad fit.

Footsore and fancy free
Your need to be worn outweighed
By my need to make forward progress.

Loafer, sneaker, heel
I untie the knot that held you to me
Kicking your dust from my heels.