The Red Shoes

 

(Listen, Pocket, let me tell you of my Red Shoes ~ poor, motherless rags ~ Mother trudging down the rugs ~ old home, a crude gathering: filthy hair, ridiculous ashes, piles of dishes and plaster, piles of chicken skin, split eggshells, doll legs ~ so much poison dust ~ do not move ~ there are nine doors out of the kitchen ~ one is for the termites ~ I’ve switched red scraps for the happiness of clean, of shiny Red Shoes ~ still never skip, or spoken to ~ Mother never hears the fire in the walls ~ yearn anything ~ confirmed crippled case ~ there, Mother stands, behind the pantry door ~

• • •

(Listen, Pocket ~ I’ll sleep in the coop, the broken windows, the shelves for holding ~ why did they have to glow so scandalous ~ the wink wrapped in her church and whispered, snide ~ stained apples disapprove ~ I loved the red lost ~ turned, admiring, and informed the Shoes: never Sunday ~ sneak down, Red Shoes ~ let’s walk along her door ~ Old Soldier Redbeard, may I ask your permission ~ could you not rot Mother into the pantry this time ~

• • •

(Listen, Pocket ~ dust and tap the Shoes ~ stay for his wink, beard askance ~ Mother never dusts the piles ~ cannot hear the choir burn ~ Mother does not, does not ~ not reminded of being crippled ~ he calls me Girl ~ little twirls now, Girl ~ Mother can’t know what she’s playing ~ he carried me, still dancing, tugged, pried me askew ~ returned to the top shelf ~ never touch the eyes ~ cried, help, Red Shoes ~ peering, longing after ~ filled with ill ~ I want so much, so anything ~ no gaze, like desire, like a person in love ~ no mother ~ no harm fastened with buttons ~ let’s touch heels to the crack on the fifth step ~ urge to sway down ~ the steps, Mother ~ do you see, Mother, anything ~ glory, glory, hallelujah ~ since I danced my burdens down ~ come down, Red Shoes, come down ~

• • •

(Listen, Pocket ~ Redbeard to the right ~ Mother in the pantry ~ Red Shoes straight ahead ~ they sure dance muddy ~ dark between, twirling against him ~ sling, Old Beard, faster now ~ what beautiful omens ~ tugged, glued, hopped ~ dance and dance ~ burdens down, Ma, burdens down, Ma ~ rain and sunlight and twilight terrible ~ no rest, from him ~ no rest, he wants ~ I’m a’climbin’ Mother’s ladder ~ the churchyard’s dread ~ pronounced to dance ~ dancing is a sin, Girl ~ wraith dolls hung to burn with the beams ~ bones door, entrails door ~ door to motherless door ~

• • •

(Listen, Pocket ~ there are three shoes to fear ~ they will dance ~ Red Shoes give no mercy ~ briar mourners ~ ev’ry round goes brighter and higher ~ Preacher’s Axe, tremble ~ I never begged for fate ~ I’m goin’ home to be the burnin’ ~ I’m goin’ home to have no mother ~ cut the still living feet ~ Red Shoes cling to nothing, Axe ~ forest of severed feet ~ forest sight, not crippled ~ the way, please, Crippled Crack Willow Tree, around the shoes? ~ around the mother doll? ~ the way, please? ~

 

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Art Information

• "Dirty Red Shoe" © Scott Hart; Creative Commons license.