Gaiea

There on our green bath mat

Was a perfect imprint of her foot

Where she had pressed it as she rose

From her bath, to deepen the color

Of that surface, as if making it more fertile

It was only for that reason that I stared,

Marveling at the contour of that insole

Where my children’s mother contacts grace

Each day. Marriage is no place for myths,

But is she any less than a goddess

For what she has brought to this earth?