The Forest Dweller’s Diary

3. My Shoes

I have been walking barefoot
Since my shoes split their seams

There is a point where needle and thread cease
It is the edge of non-being
A sink hole from which nothing can be retrieved

We have reached this point

The lime trees have gone to seed

Even a poor man needs shoes
The world was once made for leather feet, paws, hooves,
But now shards of glass drop from the guts of moving cars
And men break bottles so that homeless dogs
Go limping with bloodied feet.

Alex Sager

If you've any comments on this poem, Alex Sager would be pleased to hear from you.