Humble

I hid Bricks formed into a patchwork ochre cuboid The planet One side in unforgiving chill And the other Nauseating dry light I hid To avoid a swollen face And sores on my head No desire to become an eighties horror victim To counter the boxed equinox cool I tanned water Released refined stimulants And lactic secretions The shadows were faded but still shields Even at their stretched translucent corners But a spiced wind tricked And whetted a need for wetness Plastic clashed and rolled On the seared and warped laminate Toes thumped A T-Rex charge To the kitchen We, however, spoke of banal Boring, grown up tediousness Spent leaves rustled in black A stained spoon Rattled and ricocheted To bleed on steel My weathered pale lips pressed And did a series of tiny sips In the shrunken extension I reengaged the exchange And contrived A blueprint for the next 168 hours Then IT happened I felt flesh tickle On his palms and patellas. Just in plain white pants. One peck. On top of my right foot. "What are you doing?" "You told me. That in some Places people kiss each Others feet to show them. That. They love them. And. I. I LOVE YOU." My chest felt hollow And my legs felt magnetised Consecrated by a toddler I hesitated mid inhalation And descended to pray A spine formed a low bridge As I kissed both of his soft feet Twice It was one of the greatest gifts I ever received All I could say was "Thank You" I squeezed his Naked chest I was washed by a lobster pigment And in three seconds a blink away from a tear