Orgy of Shoes


There’s an orgy of shoes
by my front door:
couples in chaos,
their writhing stilled in a sad heap.

A boot lops
its hand-buffed leather
over unstrapped sandals.

Everyday shoes
reek of grubby feet
and rub against pointy stilettos which stab
and flay the hides of patently shiny show-ponies.

Languid laces lie,
tiredly whiplashed,
in knotty fankles.
Eyelets gape breathlessly,
open mouthed,
like a shoal of dead fish.

And in the mounting stillness,
a potential to rise, to leave,
gets sapped by dissipation
and the lack
of a capacity to feel.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Orgy of Shoes


There’s an orgy of shoes
by my front door:
couples in chaos,
their writhing stilled in a sad heap.

A boot lops
its hand-buffed leather
over unstrapped sandals.

Everyday shoes
reek of grubby feet
and rub against pointy stilettos which stab
and flay the hides of patently shiny show-ponies.

Languid laces lie,
tiredly whiplashed,
in knotty fankles.
Eyelets gape breathlessly,
open mouthed,
like a shoal of dead fish.

And in the mounting stillness,
a potential to rise, to leave,
gets sapped by dissipation
and the lack
of a capacity to feel.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s