Lo the iron foot

He scrapes – lo the iron foot – a cluster of toes at the end –
He carves wild circles –
leaving an array of spectators frowning  –
   
self-aware, he tries
treading softer with the other -
to compensate see?

The crumpled paper of their faces grow
sympathetic to his squealing,
begin to undo themselves a little.

Now lament
ol’ iron foot – or applaud the endeavour -
the stability of the heavens
under his callous, grating orbit.