Poetry: “Under Foot” by Eleanore Lee

I’m a rock.

Well, sometimes I say rock, but other times pebble feels more right.


The point is

I look up and see your flapping pants, hear rubbery shoes clump by

Blurred voices, car horns, wind.


You don’t see me. You pass by, step over. Step on…

I sink into the softness: Mud moss, dirt damp.

I’m metamorphic, I’m hard.

Terra firma.

I’m the ground.

You, you’ve been known to slip, trip, topple, spill.

Watch your step,

I’m landscape. I stay put.