My Shoes Are Killing Me

Robyn Sarah

My Shoes Are Killing Me

In My Shoes Are Killing Me, poet Robyn Sarah reflects on the passing of time, the fleetingness of dreams, and the bittersweet pleasure of thinking on the "hazardous ... treasurehouse" that is the past. Natural, musical, meditative, warm, and unexpectedly funny, this is a restorative and moving collection from one of Canada's most well-regarded poets. (From the publisher.)


Swept Away

How innocent are lovers

in the middle of their lives,

in the years when their lives thicken

and love, reckless love,

overtakes them like a summer storm.

What can they do but

bow to it, they are like trees

in the wind, lashed and tossed,

they are foolish, weeping in restaurants,

making and breaking pacts,

sending each other poems,

quotations, frantic messages,

pronouncements, promises--it is all

so impossible!--weeping in phone booths,

weeping in parked cars, forever scribbling

a note with a borrowed pencil

to slip under a closed door

--like these lines she scribbles now

to slip under the shut door

of the past, the door they shut fast

on the messy years they've chosen

not to revisit. Just a note to let them know,

in case they're in there, somewhere, still,

she doesn't hold it against them any more.

From My Shoes Are Killing Me by Robyn Sarah ©2015. Published by Biblioasis.