99poems/pittaft

My Pitta foot
on a table
in a public place,
my leg stretched
out to hold
my laptop,
as I sit typing
my poems.
I see my Pitta
foot, in its sandal,
its simple ankle
bracelet,
with silent
bells.
From this angle
there is something
attractive about
it, which is not
always the case.
Sometimes I see
it from the side,
reflected in my
mirrored closet
doors,
and feel critical
of its reddish edges.
This would be
true, of course.
Both the reddishness
and the criticism
are Pitta tendencies.
Today I see its
strength,
which has the
kind of beauty
Pitta has.
Strong and
straight-forward.
My foot is a
reminder of who
I am to be,
I wait
for people to
leave,
so I can
photograph it.
To remind
myself.

6/25/99