new red shoes

lace up your
new red shoes
in the morning
of your new
dark room

yellow light
glowing through
the doubt of day--
that eery thought
that maybe
the sun won't
really shine
on you

walk outside
over shattered glass
that no one ever
sweeps
and piles of
leaves
that never protested
their falling down--
not even a shout

sink into your
new black leather seats
the cocoon in which
you drive the streets
with the top down
and a cold ground
coming up
from the underworld
of love

when you lay down
at the end of the day
and you think the dark
will stay
longer than you can
stand
know that this is
why there is night

to sleep
instead of fight
to rest
in the dark
to do nothing
as things fall apart
when there's really
nothing to do
anyway

there will always be red shoes
someone
lacing them up
in a dawn of sadness
wondering
if there will ever
be gladness
again

there will always be
questions
we don't really
need to ask--
circles
though which
we must pass--
masks
of night
and day

mournings
we cannot
save
ourselves from