Dare I stretch my foot to you?

Or, why not call a slave?

 –

Lingering—your hands upon my feet—

I feel the trickle lick of water.

Kneeling? Here for me?

Every eye is gazing years at me.

With strokes like gentle, soft and strong

I feel you wash the silch away,

Surprising me how white my feet beneath;

Ennobling me to rise. And kneel. And serve.