NaPoWriMo day twenty and poem number twenty is called The Chiropodist…
We talk of Italian shirts and Chinese food
as he takes a knife to my feet
and deftly slices away the effects
of the city’s pavements.
Alien corns are shown no mercy,
toe nail clippings fly in all directions
and my soles are buffed to perfection.
We inspect the finished articles.
He has sculpted two silk purses from sows’ ears.
Pleased with his handiwork
he points to the debris below.
I am repulsed yet strangely interested.
As I watch the Henry suck it away
I wander how many feet will fill him up.
I slide on my shoes and say goodbye
bouncing home on reborn feet.