Leave Your Shoes On
By Khristy Nickerson •
I know you're home
as soon as the door
swings open
and booms
to fit its frame,
It causes my mind
to stagger
in which tone
I should pronounce
your name
Should I shuffle
my way to you,
and act intrigued
with any news
because it came
from you?
Or will I become
another insect,
molded into the cracks
on the bottoms
of your shoes?
If you loved me,
you'd recognize
that my smile
is only stark
with a good supply
of novocaine,
my cheeks no longer
feel limp
from the strain
If you loved me,
you'd have the desire
to meet simplicity,
if you ever did read
a single line
of my poetry
But you're the smoke,
from a dying fire,
flowing through
and out the top
of our chimney,
the object
that I forgetfully
drop through slits,
with no pockets-
You rise
as you slip
right through me
Thus,
you don't go about
wasting your time
trying to untie knots
when you know not
the direct location
of the spots