I spent this morning buffing
The calloused skin on my feet
With a purple pumice stone.
As the color of the stone turned
My toes purple, I pretended
I was performing some other task.
I was an ancient soldier sharpening
A spear tip with a whetstone;
A carpenter sanding a piece of plywood
That would be used to build an ocean-
Faring vessel; a servant polishing
The manor lord’s family silver—
Anything other than what I actually was:
A lonely bachelor scrubbing his feet
With volcanic rock before work.
A. J. Hayes
Give a poet a pen