Point of Reference
I tell friends the bottoms of my feet
tingle when I peer down at a gorge from a high bridge or watch
a video of a cyclist popping wheelies on a roof or follow
the wearable camera of skydivers about to jump from a plane.
No one shouts, Mine do that too!
and there’s radio silence when I talk about
how lightbulbs make me sneeze
or the word blood bends my vision
so if I say love is like that shiver in your soles
when you peek over the Eiffel Tower guard rail
you’ll stand unmoved, footpads rooted to the floor—
but if I say my arches feel a prickling
like the lightning jolt of new love,
you’ll just about leap.
About the Author: Sarah Carleton writes poetry, edits fiction, plays the banjo, and knits obsessively in Tampa, Florida, USA. Her poems have appeared in numerous publications, including Rattle, ONE ART, Nimrod, and Epiphany. Her first collection, Notes from the Girl Cave, was published in 2020 by Kelsay Books.
Image Credit: William Robinson Leigh View of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone (1913) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 