K.A. Phyn works during the day at her job and occasionally moonlights as a poet. Her hobbies include hip hop dance, reading agatha christie novels and being an international woman of mystery. She hopes one day to garner worldwide acclamation by publishing a book of poems discussing America's Next Top Model, or failing that, poems about her childhood.
Secrets
secretly
I love the way feet smell
There
I said it.
Some half memory
Sprawled across the big bed twice my size
smelling mum’s feet
Your feet smell good
I curl my leg up to smell my own skin.
Doesn’t anybody else smell like that too?
Come on.
A smell like earth
Like rain coming
Like warm dirt
I bet
In the slums of Bangladesh no one worries about
Smelly feet
Or B.O.
Or bad breath
Or bad skin
Or bad
hair
They’re too busy surviving.
Not like us westerners eh,
Spend our lives trying not to
Smell
Like
Anything.
