Her pale toes wiggle as
he grips each one with
proper respect, never slipping a digit
between them because those spaces are
the mouths of the feet,
and he wouldn’t want them to gag.
The massages have been guaranteed each evening,
once her keys collapse on the counter
and her flats are flung off,
for two decades bookended by
student ramen and osteoarthritis,
every squeeze a symbol of solidarity
through flu and SlimFast failures and
families crumbling like
Get the heel!
When tension seeps from a knob of bone
repeatedly plastered against
the steps of Robie Street,
she grinds her green eyes
into giddy slits and
festoons the cramped bedroom with
shrieks of relief.
Zigzagging back and forth across the Canadian/US border, Adrian Slonaker works as a copywriter and copy editor. Adrian’s work has been nominated for Best of the Net and has appeared in Pangolin Review, Aerodrome, WINK: Writers in the Know and others.