brought raze feet have fingers. mine couldn't carry a thin stick wrapped in the gauze gathered out of wind and refuse, or the sound secreted by malfunctioning machinery on someone else's property. but they brought these things back inside the house with them in warmer weather: a chipped plastic tooth, painted black with putrefaction. a strip of brown bark. two small leaves. one flat as the flame that gave it a name. the other curled in on itself. the softest arrowheads, weathered into weapons too weak to deal out damage. an assortment of tiny twigs twisted into loops. dead worms, your eyes might tell you. or filthy fish hooks. a smooth grey stone. a few flakes of broken brick. and all the lost things i didn't look at long enough to commit to memory. now all i drag behind me is rainwater and the mud of my own misfiring mind. 230112 what's it to you? who go blather from