Sonnet #5
- — June 1, 2010
My sister had her feet fitted by fluoroscope
for party shoes. For prom shoes.
My sister hunted each paper’s horoscope
for clues to Friday’s outcome. Would she lose
her purse or powder the hour before?
The clerk who adjusted my sister’s foot
a second time worked the sales floor
with brown eyes and pomade. He looked
at me. He asked to see the feet
inside my shoes – x-radiation around both of us.
Finally Friday: soda-fountain meet-and-greet,
matinee foolery, shared coke. Fuss
over my sister who tore her own dress for a joke.
They didn’t know my irreparable rip, or my hope.
