If Wishes Were Horses
Fitting
Behind the window glass:
pink satin and a shape
as fine as crystal goblets,
a silver spoon.
Each day I paused
in my heavy brogues,
admired the smooth ties
and slender, tapered heels.
Then I stood at the center,
ribbons laced at my ankles,
chandeliers cutting light
in seven directions
and a brace of men, graceful as in turn
they took my perfumed fingers.
The viols played all night.
My rose shoes matched my gown.
I could not save enough
to pay the price for slippers.
One morning they were gone.
I crossed to the street's other side.
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