Monday, January 12, 2015

Red Shoes (poem)

I have no interest in small stones now.
My mind balloons around boulders.
My hair is long now, the way you liked it
Not pert in a complicated cut. The ropes
around the rings sag. Nothing is the same.

I carry pebbles in my mouth now. My tongue
does not loll, my lips do not bleed in smiles.
The wind is a compass for destiny--and belief
sleeps in the bottom of a bucket with sand.
I wish I had your faith or someone’s red shoes.

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