Chafed Knees

Chafed Knees

I cannot blame the texture of the soil
for my chafed knees, when I kneel
too heavily on the floor of the world
I polish, over and over, one home section
until it gleams the basics of earth and sweat,
until the spot is wiped clean.
When I stand, I cannot blame the world
for my chafed knees, and I cannot blame
the knees, that only obeyed and bent
beneath the pressure of thought.
I do not blame the sky.
A majestic, blooming blue just beyond
the reach of my tiptoes, lofty and cool.
A cliff of clouds that design a variety of form,
floating broad choices and narrower ones.