}} Left Shoe |

Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Left Shoe

An unschooled brightness, it arches
its heel. The carpet does not ignite.

It will not fold back its parched lips—
the hush of a broken mouth.

It dreams of the other, the right pair.
It will not let go. It will not walk.

A sitting duck.
An upturned apocalypse.

            excerpted From A Roomful of Machines