Those Shoes

 

The door ajar offers a crazy

glimpse of my crazy grandmother

there she stands 

naked in front of the bathroom 

mirror  

except for her shoes. 

shoes that forever take her nowhere 

shoes without the dress 

shoes and spindly legs.  

clunky oxfords

black like a nun’s shoe. 

awkward ballerina as she rinses and pats dry

unwitting to a grandchild’s 

accidental peep show

shush, let’s close  the door 

with soft avoidance

I leave her to her alone time

tell no one of this oddity

it’s only a sign of her long suffering, 

the unwellness

still, those shoes I will never forget 

my eyes locked onto them

scrounging for explanation

where my teenaged mind 

would find none  

imprinted

by a cosmic snapshot