She Wears Pretty Shoes
Delicate little things the color of
champagne with the cutest crystal bows
—the bows catch light like stolen stars
daring the night to stay bright.
Her coat brushes the tops of them
but doesn’t hide them from the world.
Every time she pauses at a crosswalk,
folks glance down, then up, see her—
as if her shoes carried covert mysteries
about the woman herself.
Her fingers touch the letter in her
pocket, her shoes walk her home.