Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Foot, Tongue, Boot

Twenty-six
bones, thirty-
three joints,
one hundred
muscles
and tendons,
ligaments,
tongues
of thousands
of miles;
who could forget
that dish
of hard candy,
ten lollipops
to worship—red,
green, peachy
as the day
God made them.
What foot lives
without a tongue
to soothe it? 
The boot warms
the confusion
my mind is—
I pick it up, sniff
you out when
elsewhere
rules the hour,
has you all
to itself, like
a bloodhound
on a leash,
drooling
for the fugitive
to return to the scene
of the crime. 

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