To her slender foot. The sole
Was caked with mud but the
Pink Nike logo stood out against
The white leather background.
The lace had been tied for a day
At work?
At play?
The other was found some distance
From where its twin now lay.
The white leather crusted with dried
Blood and draped with a broken
Lace that had started the day with
The same intention as the other
But was now rendered useless.
The Nike logo was no longer
Pink but brown with its point
Holding three blades of grass
That must have come from some
Other place than where it sits now.
Size 7 shows on the tongue that
Is no longer restrained by its white lace.
These shoes had been wrapped and
Placed underneath the Christmas tree
Last year after much pleading for
Something not necessary but trendy.
Now they sit in a storage room, dirty
And adorned with a
Them at the scene of a crime
That we all try to forget but cannot
Because we can no longer see her smile.
(c)Michelle Bullock
published in Skipping Stones 2007
Mindworm Press, Chesapeake, VA
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