i have my Father’s feet
a two inch gap after the big toe
bones that curve to the ground
from too many hand me downs

He tells me i have His hands
but i can’t see
past the calluses
ten years as a kroger bagger
i avoid his line
speedwalk to the automatic door
buying rillos with his twenty percent discount 

He licks His bony index finger
flips to a bible verse
He thinks will fix me
i look at the family portrait on the wall
a face blacked out in fading magic marker
waiting for our next two months of silence
starting tomorrow

i will stop running from my Footprints
the day they are no longer His