When the shovel fell, the dirt exposed
Wednesday, February 08, 2017
the white baby shoes. The eroded soil
failed to bury the stitches on the soles
and the scratches on the left tongue.
Father looked away and gazed
at the curling smoke from his cigarette.
The shallow grave aggravated the anthill
near the foot of the mulberry tree.
The lantern trembled as the wind
intensified from the belly of Mt. Sannine.
The last of the dogwood twigs smoldered
and kept the coffeepot warm.
Father stomped on the white leather,
yet the eyelets of the shoestrings stared
back from the mud like a choking snake.
This poem was published in These Fragile Lilacs Poetry Journal, Volume II, issue II.