Heels tapped on the pavement,
cracked red patent flashed ’Stop!’
but she could only go
despite the pinch on her little toe
and the blisters rubbed raw
by red shoe leather,
lucky pumps borrowed
from her sister.
No shoes of her own,
no trainers, boots or sandals to her name;
everything sold to fund her habit,
to keep her sane. If only she’d read
that story to the end, she might know what to do
about the tight squeeze of a red shoe.
Kim M. Russell, 5th April 2018
My response to The Poetry School NaPoWriMo Prompt for Day 5: The Talisman, also linking to dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night
Today Ali would like us to write poems with a central, essential object – a thing, a talisman – around which all the action circles. He says he’s looking for the poetic equivalent of Rosebud in Citizen Kane, Hedda Gabler’s father’s pistols, McMurphy’s pack of erotic playing cards in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. He’s not looking for a poem about an object — no odes to telephones or hub caps – but a poem in which an object allows other things to happen, other stories to be told. It doesn’t have to appear all the time but it has to be important.