Loving me with my shoes off <br />means loving my long brown legs, <br />sweet dears, as good as spoons; <br />and my feet, those two children <br />let out to play naked. Intricate nubs, <br />my toes. No longer bound. <br />And what's more, see toenails and <br />all ten stages, root by root. <br />All spirited and wild, this little <br />piggy went to market and this little piggy <br />stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes. <br />Further up, my darling, the woman <br />is calling her secrets, little houses, <br />little tongues that tell you. <br /> <br />There is no one else but us <br />in this house on the land spit. <br />The sea wears a bell in its navel. <br />And I'm your barefoot wench for a <br />whole week. Do you care for salami? <br />No. You'd rather not have a scotch? <br />No. You don't really drink. You do <br />drink me. The gulls kill fish, <br />crying out like three-year-olds. <br />The surf's a narcotic, calling out, <br />I am, I am, I am <br />all night long. Barefoot, <br />I drum up and down your back. <br />In the morning I run from door to door <br />of the cabin playing chase me. <br />Now you grab me by the ankles. <br />Now you work your way up the legs <br />and come to pierce me at my hunger mark<br /><br />Anne Sexton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/barefoot/
