The filing cab’net’s sleek black sides’ dull gleam
reflects the dim-blurred image of a foot
all sandal-wrapped with unclipped nails that seem
a cowry colored echo of a root
exposed from underneath a fleshy soil.
Softly sung to eyes, the image weighs
as much as steam from cheeks too long embroiled
or downy barbs by children’s fingers splayed,
a weight displaced by sounds of rustled paper,
construction tones beyond the office glass.
The iris shifts, blinks; attention tapers;
the knee curls slow and bids reflections pass.
The world external, rendered partially mute,
regains its misplaced language in the foot.