Feet of an Apostle by Albrecht Durer

[Feet of an Apostle, by Albrecht Durer]


I watch my hands reach in opposite directions to grasp

a rolling ball with the right, a wet paper bag with the left.

My right foot must aim to arrive at a sock and the left

to textures of rug and while there must register

how a wood floor feels. And then my spine necessarily reads

what is behind me, belly straining to oblige, bared

breasts extending. My heavy mouth open, empty, waiting.

My head pivots guarding the slippage. I keep on slipping.

I must get me back.


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