When Did My Feet Turn into My Mother’s?

I looked down at his perfectly straight toes,

this boy wearing sandals. I identified

with him subconsciously, then looked

down at mine, bared in a pair of thongs,

and almost cried at the bulges and hammers

that overnight seem to have latched onto my feet.



It used to be the toes on the left that had 

the crooked one, but those on the right foot 

were as straight as when I was younger,

 and I always felt some pride over people with

bumpy feet, shoes cut out by the big toe.


What will go next? I lost the elasticity in my skin,

my hair is gray, I have jowls, my hands look veiny

with fingers twisted this way and that. And now

my feet. It isn’t fair.


This aging thing has got to slow down; I don’t have

much left––the skin on my legs is pretty good,

tattoos still showing healthy budding branches and

the other with Jason’s name readable in straight letters 

but if my body is breaking down from my feet up,  

and the top side has already slipped into mush, 

I don’t have much time before I meet in the middle, 

and that went long ago.







Published in: Uncategorized on September 9, 2013 at 2:18 am  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Oh, Jackie, how true! Are you still ‘out there’? I worry when I don’t find any current words from you….
    Still love you and your writings–of any kind!

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