short stories



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Sonnet to my Feet
Lyn Blakely

Host to a quarter of the bones in my body,
taking ten thousand steps a day,

in stilettos like biros, high sexy mules,
serviceable trainers, flats or slippers

from the gym to the city, the farmlet to functions
I seldom think of you.

Bound by an anklet but no device
to measure the metres, confirm confinement

yet constrained by footwear you are only free
when your toes touch the earth, feel the breeze.

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