Footsteps

Photograph by Jeremy Spell


FOOTSTEPS

The footsteps that remained inside the floor’s
rug-covered wood recalled what last month’s
footsteps left from when the footsteps
departed from the curls and scars of city rivers.
The footsteps left a drop of quivering water
on a pigeon‘s, colored like a white orchid,
fallen feather, drops of paralyzed tears
and their crutches on a flock of gray gravel
that had closed their eyes and wobbled towards
broken glass covering grasses.
The footsteps splashed as if the wood were water,
splashed against the cobwebs on the ceiling
and fell on the bottoms of white chairs
and evaporated
to leave long rows of white circles.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Art Villa