I wear boots
They clunk and caress
They carry me
Until the soles wear thin
And one erodes
More than the other
On that side
That’s felt ankle twist sprain
One to many times
It’s weaker now
But i know how to care
For it.
I wear boots that hurt
In countries that scare me
And challenge
My fortitude
myself.
They rub on my ankles
Making blisters
Half a golf ball in size
Squeezing pinky toe
Strangulation.
They keep my moving
Dry
Protected
Reminding me that what i need
Isn’t often
Comfortable
I wear them until
My foot kneads into the leather
Until the groove
The arch of me
Becomes them.
Until these boots need me.
I wear my boots
That stomp
And I play along
Pretending I belong here
Stern face and quickened step
So convincing
That I’m spoken to
In languages
I can’t understand
But I do
Because tone weighs tons
And body language
Is universal
When it’s four inches from your face
In gurgled rattling,
Until that kind greek man
Pulls him back
By the coat
And watches
Until he is out of sight;
Thumbs up he gives me
Thumbs up
I say back.
And I wear boots
Until they fall apart
And I mourn them when they go,
These workhorse beauties
That carry me
We break each other
In mutual manner
With purpose
And need.
I’m sorry
I thought about selling you
In Berlin
because your soul may be hard,
But you’ve softened
mine.
About the Creator
Christine Jupp
I call Portland my home, even though I don't see it often.
Mostly poetry.
Some prose and short stories.
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