SHOES
On the fifth day of our exile
one of the fathers saw a sign
a significant number of crows
said one of us was sure to die
the sun stepped out of her hoopskirt
put her crows in the oaks
like an old woman putting
mugs away that aren’t quite dry
we fell asleep wondering
who it would be come morning
the boy who had taken
his shoes off the day before
and had been carrying them
by their laces like hair
was dead of fever we buried him
like travelers shoveling dirt
onto embers and now
we have this pair of shoes
no one knows what to do with
the fathers say we should
tie them to a branch as a warning
to those who come after us
to let them know the trials
we have suffered but Hell
he came all this way in them
I’ll carry them if no one else will
On the fifth day of our exile
one of the fathers saw a sign
a significant number of crows
said one of us was sure to die
the sun stepped out of her hoopskirt
put her crows in the oaks
like an old woman putting
mugs away that aren’t quite dry
we fell asleep wondering
who it would be come morning
the boy who had taken
his shoes off the day before
and had been carrying them
by their laces like hair
was dead of fever we buried him
like travelers shoveling dirt
onto embers and now
we have this pair of shoes
no one knows what to do with
the fathers say we should
tie them to a branch as a warning
to those who come after us
to let them know the trials
we have suffered but Hell
he came all this way in them
I’ll carry them if no one else will