Sheltowee Trace: Mile 60
The Cumberland River
sucks venom from heel blisters.
I hurl sopping boots (they soaked up
A whole summer storm 6 miles back).
They clonk
near a box turtle
who extracts her limbs,
her exposed head,
makes herself a boot.
She tilts an orange eye toward the sole,
Slides out a leg,
toes an inch, two, three
Away—
Forward–
surprised each time
she peeks through the safety
and lumbers on.