i wear a plastic case as shoes
each box separate from one another.
the box fills with concrete mixture
whenever misfortune decides to step in
and order a truck to dump the mix onto my feet.
at times, the mix takes weeks to harden
i tread onward with a heavier step
but forward i go on.
however, eventually the mixture hardens.
solidifies. my willpower. evaporates.
no jack hammer in sight.
position becomes fixed.
i cannot move on
cannot tread forward with an elephant’s foot
as deadly as Chernobyl.
my feet have become one
with the ground
with no sight of salvation
every once in a while
the construction workers give me a chisel
and say it is ‘up to you’
aware i am down with the darkest of blues.
after ages of chipping away
the weight is gone
but the plastic boxes remain
misfortune must begin construction again