the kinds that are too tough
you chose them in the market
Parakeet hanging up beside the linen
laundry line, low hanging electricity
My feet often burn when I sleep
Corn, feed the grey pieces to the parakeet
Pull a linen drape across her cage
Is it a pity that she does not speak?
The market: it is a cool day
for you to walk cane-less
one heel thicker than the other
You ask me to steady you
as we climb the ruin
you excavated as a child
before they brought electricity
washing machines
Take two rocks between your fingers
bend with your strong knee
to touch my burning feet
Kernels of corn -- I know you
Pull back the drapes
parakeet, one heel thick
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