A craving for red shoes
They’re not my shoes.
But they should be.
They’re red, crimson, scarlet, burgundy, or cherry.
They’re bright, shiny, glazed.
Three and a half inch heels.
High, but not crippling.
They stand tall, thin, smooth, erect.
They never strut, they simply slither.
They’re always new, spotless.
They smell of fresh raw leather.
They’re on her feet though, not mine.
But…
They easily glide off her feet.
They slip into mine.
I become…
I am.
elf
absolutely breathtaking. i kept imagining my feet on those shoes too. living through the poem - that's the true exercise, right? to make the reader feel as though they are living it. favorite line: "they never strut, they simply slither."
ReplyDeletedo you mean 'slip onto mine' in the 2nd half of the poem?
brilliant, really.
I know right? I felt like I was wearing the shoes even though they are for women. I felt like I entered in her poem! Brilliant!
Deletealso, the repetition of color, the alliteration - these give such great texture to the poem. is it a poem? feels like a poem.
ReplyDeleteWhoah...that's deep. No, but seriously, it was very beautifully worded. The free-verse was astounding and didn't feel limited at all. I'm not a woman myself, but I almost felt envious of that woman and happy when I received the shoes for my own. I really lost myself in the work; great job, truly!
ReplyDeleteThank you Jane and Carlos. I really did enjoy the exercise, writing, that is.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading the poem. The word choice made me enjoy it even more. Great work!
ReplyDeleteOh my God I loved it! Beautiful structure!
ReplyDeleteElsa, your poem makes me regret even more that I left that pair of perfect mad hatter red heels at the steve madden store. Oh.. those perfect red heels.. sigh*
ReplyDelete