after a line by Ricardo Molinari, Poem of the Girl from Velásquez
You are the bluest shoe.
Walk back to front for hours, past
broken car hearts, auricles crossing
to the other side.
You are the tightest boot,
and you wander night after
twilight across our cobbled stones,
rooftops laced with want.
If you turn left on Peralta Lane,
we’re dividing a heel of bread into 4 parts:
We’d ask you in, but there’s mud
on the stairs. Caution:
Here’s the part in the poem where
a stop sign blinks green, here’s
the stepped-on river, the cup of snow,
the map our mother hides from you.
First published in Rhino, Spring, 2012