Jack Scott writes

The History of Feet

The tide of paving, 
poured or pounded, 
cast and set 
upon the land 
in hardened veins 
and arteries: 
a cartographic masterpiece 
allowing  transport 
and communication.

Tropic frost will erase 
this network 
given time and inattention. 
No freeze and thaw, 
but grass and other roots, 
moss and ants and fungus, 
trees and shrubs and vines 
growing in, creeping out, 
incessant, humble thrusts 
becoming torrents of erosion 
exerting constant pressure 
upon the doors of maintenance, 
always ajar.

The history of surfaces 
lies pocked and cracking 
a simple leap 
far enough below this balcony 
to be decisive. 
I walk this narrow balustrade 
around its edge, 
wineglass in my hand 
curious about trajectory and timing, 
calculating what could I land on
with careful aiming.

More than hypothetical 
this space between us. 
Below, the history of feet, 
above, the history of head.

 2100-year-old human footprints near the lake in Managua, Nicaragua.