A Walk in Front of Myself

This is a draft about integration. There are a few topics that are large and flexible enough that I think a case can be made for them to be in just about every poem or piece of fiction: death, love, integration . . . I am curious — what would you add to that list?

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI would walk in front of myselflike the page sent before the Queen, to sweep the streets clean, ready for the touch of her thin-slippered foot.I would keep my eyes downeven as my lashes grew heavy with dust and my skin clotted with grime.I would -- not -- pretend that feet were meant to walk on anything but earth -- mucky, rotten, writhing earth, alive enough to hold a foot like mine.I would walk in front of myselfslower and sloweruntil I catch my own foot by the sweep of a hand, fallland solid at the center of it all