Pink Ochre Magazine

I find dozens
like daffodils rising
in early spring.
Under the couch,
two Marabou slippers,
one pink, one white,
galoshes in her car trunk,
boxed bright-red ballet flats
from her teen dreams
and love for Violette Verdy,
garden shoes lined up
against the breezeway
brick wall like gangsters
on Valentine’s Day,
tan beach-espadrilles
lounging in a wine rack,
Audrey Hepburn pointed-toe
flats wrapped
inside cigarette pants,
size seven Mary Janes
for CHF-related edema,
by the dead fireplace
a single black stiletto
as if in mourning
for the loss of its mate,
a perfect fit.