Comparatively, Speaking
by MJ Iuppa
My numb feet float in this pool of blue water. Dragonflies
flit about, dipping down to sip a drink and disappear with-
out touching my red toenails. My wrinkly feet once belonged
to a mummy named Hatshepsut, found wrapped in a tomb, in
the Valley of the Kings; and not too long ago, I realized that
my feet were her feet that once were anointed in oil, in the
Egyptian moonlight that mirrors the face of her wet nurse who
was buried in a coffin alongside her sarcophagus; yet, I sit here
on the ladder and stir my feet underwater and lament, wishing
my feet could travel and trade as they once did, defying men’s
regard of women with status. You think I should pretend not
to know what I know; that I would be better off not protesting
too loudly in the ears of men. Certainly, it would make them
less suspicious of all the things I tolerate. My numb feet
haven’t stepped out of this pool of blue water.
About the Author
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 31 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog: mjiuppa.blogspot.com for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.