For years I saw my feet as ugly
with an odd array of toes:
one fairly normal,
three long and bony,
the smallest stubby and curled
as if counterbalancing its finger–like siblings.
Then one day a shift came
and I saw their stoic grace —
these two servants who have carried me
over tender grass
and burning asphalt,
without whom I could not dance.
And I bent
and asked their forgiveness.
Kelly Eastlund grew up in Colorado and currently lives in the Pacific Northwest. Her writing has appeared in the online journals Four and Twenty, A Handful of Stones, and The Queen Bee Collective, as well as the anthology Pay Attention: A River of Stones.