The logic of shoes

by tiresomemoi

Old shoes, 8 February 2015No laces, 8 February 2015


Like Two Negative Numbers Multiplied By Rain


Lie down, you are horizontal.

Stand up, you are not.


I wanted my fate to be human.


Like a perfume 
that does not choose the direction it travels,

that cannot be straight or crooked, kept out or kept.


Yes, No, Or

— a day, a life, slips through them,

taking off the third skin,

taking off the fourth.


The logic of shoes becomes at last simple,

an animal question, scuffing.


Old shoes, old roads —

the questions keep being new ones.

Like two negative numbers multiplied by rain

into oranges and olives.


Jane Hirshfield



For the last few years I’ve been on Knopf’s Poem-A-Day email list. Every day in April a poem floats into my inbox and then, May first the poems stop and I miss them. This year I thought I’d share my favorites.