james mcgonigal
Poet  •  Critic

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       From The Desert Mothers: Shod

At a steady pace below the moon
the cotton-soled tread of our carters
pad-pads across a waste of grit and boulders.

Cart-wheels revolve with constellations
all night through.

Soon wives at home will wake
to stitch and counter-stitch the soles
for next month’s trek

holding the shape of a husband’s foot
steady in one hand.

Click on the poem title to read the next excerpted poem from Turning Over in a Strange Bed.