JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Between asterix and axe

lies the world of Asterlapse

which owes its posterity

to the fact that its inhabitants

are all shoemakers

 

From twin-sunned dawn

to five-mooned never-dusk they toil

hammering away nail and stitch

which is rather odd to say the least

as all these creatures have no feet

 

So why the shoes?  I’m clueless.

Is there another place where

folks are shoeless, with millipedal

legs, for whom the bootmakers

of Asterlapse toil so valiantly perhaps?

 

Or do they just do it

because that’s the only thing they know

like rubber trees make rubber

and grass knows how to grow