Tagged: walking

here comes month nineteen

it takes one walk to

from a distance, we

from a distance, we
imagine we are walking
the same walk, but where

one has a choice to stay, the
other is forced to stay still

we all do it – place

we all do it – place
one foot in front of the other,
over and over,

knowing and not knowing when
we’ll need to brace for impact

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: brace

on the nth day of

on the nth day of
summer, we made a few
more discoveries,
hand in hand, arms
swinging towards
home, luck in our
steps. a new
Hedera helix hanging
planter finds its rhythm
alongside us, ready
to climb towards
the stars at our window

on a scale of walking

on a scale of walking
into traffic and
walking into the sea,
last night i
chose the sea,
and when i reached it,
you called me
out of the blue,
an accusatory tone
in your voice,
taking me back
to the days when
i’d arrive at my
childhood home
and not ring you up.
i was found out,
i leaned the
heaviness against you
so that i could
find a new
balance, and you
shifted so that you
could accommodate
the weight. i
wandered alongside,
instead of into,
though the sound of
the waves will always
compete with your voice


sunday walks across

sunday walks across
the ceiling in sequined
shoes, size two, with
the regular irregularity
of a juvenile dog’s pitter-
patter trailing from
not far behind her
i am barely awake,
listening for a
toddler-sized tumble

it is known, or

it is known, or
rather felt, that
memories get
shifted around
in the body, from
eyes, to liver,
to heart, to
fingers, to
skin, to feet.
how else can
we explain
the heaviness
from walking
away, walking
off, walking
to make sense
of it all, to
stop the rest
of the body
from feeling