On the doorstep, I count them.

 

There are only two, one left, one right.

There used to be four and often more—

you didn't use the closet as I wished.

Those shoes so big I often tripped over them.

 

Heavy, clunky, metal braces under the arch.

You had to take them off every time we passed

through an airport, even before the shoe bomber.

 

I tripped over them once when you weren't home,

and I took one to throw out of anger but couldn't—

 I feared the damage it might do.

 

Then I considered the damage it might have done,

not on a neck but on a back during a raid,

you with gun drawn, directing someone not to move,

put his hands behind his back.

 

Those shoes you wore in the uniform, I respected

but feared, because you might not come home.

Kevlar vests don't fit women well.


 

Unlike those shoes that brought you back until

you decided it was time to leave— shoes

no longer block my doorstep,

no longer trip me in the dark.

 

This poem appears in Texas Bards Poetry Anthology 2025

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We Released a Sea Turtle Today

Image
In Memory of Michael Joseph Westergren We released a sea turtle today. It did not hurry. The waves waited. It moved with slow resolve, across sand  that burned underfoot, toward a home  it never stopped carrying inside itself. Not once did it turn back. It breathed the air, as all sea turtles must. Like a promise held  too long, then finally, let go. We watched the tide claim it one breath,  its shape folding into water, as if  it had never been anything else. They say Kemp’s Ridleys nearly disappeared, strangled by nets they couldn’t see, forgotten  by systems they trusted. Still, they returned. Still, they nested. Still, they swam. So did Mike, a man with a heart, opened, twice once by scalpel, once by grief and closed again only after it had poured out everything. He knew the way back: to Corpus, to family, to sand and sky and song. He breathed deeply  when he could, and fiercely when he couldn’t. He wore no armor but a bowtie, spoke plainly, and ju...
Read more

A City Moves (Hibbing, MN)

You’ve heard of earthquakes  and landslides, but have you seen  the effects of a mining company?  in northern Minnesota 1919 188 buildings, businesses, and houses  were relocated  2 miles and then some  from their previous locations all because of political affiliations  New sewer, water, and electricity  loaded with manpower and steam  touted down new streets  When what is underneath you  is more valuable than above  people make choices for the families that they love https://www.minnpost.com/mnopedia/2012/10/relocation-hibbing-1919-1921/
Read more

A good woman's love

Image
  with a good woman’s love he left                     that life behind        and died                     an honorable death in the bedroom                     that was mine
Read more