Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-four
Spring 2014
 
Neglect
Rachelle Cruz

“They went into my closets looking for skeletons, but thank God, all they found were shoes, beautiful shoes,” Imelda Marcos told reporters when she inaugurated the shoe museum.




Sometimes we are heel gush and worn sole.





Sometimes we are termites engorging on Pierre Cardins.





Sometimes we are warped and stained.





Once we were the barong with the melting presidential seal.





Sometimes we are a sleeve nearly torn off.





Sometimes we are the battery-operated pair, blinking while she dances.





Sometimes we are unavailable for comment.





Sometimes we are donated at charity auctions, fetching ten thousand American dollars.





Sometimes we are the mosquitoes breeding outside of the Riverside Palace.





Sometimes we are tropical rains switching the channel.





Sometimes we are foil wrapped tightly around the antennae.





Sometimes we are the sopping cardboard boxes without return labels.





Sometimes we are scavengers licking dust from bone china.





Sometimes we are lighter than rain. We are crueler than memory.

About Rachelle Cruz

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