• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 07


There is a logic that is only found by walking barefoot
you must step on every crack between the paving stones
sowing ox-eye daisies and lady’s slippers in the gaps.
The strongest will grow in the poorest soil.
You trace a single word in the dust.
I will circle your wrist with a chain of forget-me-nots, stems slit
to poke their heads through.
Pull up a chair, and let’s see if the shoe fits.