Washing My Uncle’s Feet(For Buddy Brian) Poem by Dónall Dempsey

My battered old uncle’s feet
soaking in
the blue porcelain bowl
delight in his
ooohs & ahhhhs

as the miles of farm
from dawn to dusk
(lost now in the warm)
fall off his
tired old gnarly feet

float to the surface
like scum & shaved calluses
I pat dry
his old knobbly toes
in the fluffy luxury
of a big white towel

laugh at him
telling the little boy I am
“Ah, good man…good man! ”

***

“Hello...hello? ”
“Earth calling Donall! ”
you smile.
“Penny for ‘em? ”
you laugh.

“I was washing my uncle’s feet...”
I softly cry
somewhere a long long time ago.