Sitting Never Won Any Wars

Languid arches,
A heel inclined
To tell a tale of mounds tamed
And marches famed to pass
Callused pads
To a younger generation

Chipped toenails, from scraping concrete
(Soaked in hose water)
Sing a song of
Feet tried and put to test
Over coals and
Freeze-dried pig’s feet
(That never had any soles),
Pickle jars with human hearts
Long-since pickled & broken

With no blood to the legs,
The body falls
Prey to sheathed tingly needles
At home in its cushioned & reclined repose
To ponder a swollen tiredness
The shoes have never shown
From a war never fought by the lackadaisical

Originally published on, by Underwood Press

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