found farther and farther out
I stand still in my shoes, my
sardine tin shoes. They open with a key the corners
correct my pigeon toes my
feet have a left hand bias
I stand still.
My love rummages my attic he
gathers my shoes places them around me
in concentric circles arranges them
like almonds on fruit cake
my love rummages.
He nudges the shoes tightening the circle we
are points on the restless circle
he orbits the circumference I
stand still in the center