Silver Sandals
By Gretchen Fletcher, Ft. Lauderdale, FL
2009 Grand Prize Winner
What could be sillier
than silver sandals in the city--
with high heels, to boot?
Too frivolous for side-walking,
flimsy strips of leather
the cool color of rain drops,
but warm as moonbeams,
wind across toes,
crisscross insteps,
hug heels--sensual,
not sensible shoes
like quicksilver
ones Mercury wore
with little wing-like flames
nipping at his heels.
I could fly in these, too--
I bet--or do other silly things:
I could begin the beguine,
or dance the Carioca with Fred,
sand shushing under our soles.
I could sashay to a chivaree,
my heels casting up sparks
as they strike the ground.
I could jump a candlestick nimbly,
or shinny up a sun ray, careful
not to step on dust motes.
Magic shoes, these
silly silver sandals
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