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.

 

 

 

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