Thanks to two wonderful gentlemen ChrisTweetieBard and Rick Morton my Blog Stats recorded 142 visitors on Monday 30 December 2009. For the first day of Advent, ChrisTweetieBard has written another shoe poem which he is happy to share with me. It is about dead people’s shoes, which (he says) are particularly poignant. It also reminds me why I cannot bring myself to wear so-called vintage shoes that have belonged to other people. Too many memories.
To the extent that it lived
It had buckle that her juices ate for years
And let itself be wrapped around her insides.
Intestines and such – so well made that the corners didn’t dig
Into her innards but it’s vulgar
The way the tabloids went on when they got the x-rays
You’ve heard of scissors, scalpels. This was a size 8
A kind of pump and not cheap. A left one. ‘Whose was it?’
Notice they used the past tense? Of course
There will be a full investigation in accordance with
Whatever. But to live with a shoe in you
Was hard to believe. For her I mean.
It isn’t sure precisely how long
And the surgeons are fruity voiced and believable.
She loved the shoe, kept it.
Had a right one made in its image.
When she walked down the street she looked at the corroded buckle
and thought of freedom.