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 tragic portrait