Itch

Cold crumbs of humiliation fill my socks
An itch from heel to ankle, between guilty toes,
Creeps up my calves. Jeans and thermals, armor
Against the shame. Bind me with toasted seeds and
Roast the delicate arch of a left foot gone wrong
My mouth is gaping, I’m koi, tightly spinning circles in a pond
The size of a manhole cover, choking on air
It all scratches too much.
“Oh yes, I saw it yesterday and was going to ask—“
Done, already. How mighty are you? Socks sagging with crumbs, spill over
I crunch on self-pity, roll my shoulder in dust made
From a thousand-thousand crumbs
And still the tip of my tongue wants to lift each one,
Withdraw, retreat, eat, swallow
Itch.