Tina Connolly’s Patented Time Capsule Mostly Unrhyming Poem (™)

The other day, my friend Tina Connolly posted the most fabulous picture of herself and her sunshiny shoes, and I swore to myself that I would write a poem about them, and here it is:


by C. S. E. Cooney

not glass nor fur nor iron
nor red slippers to dance your death in
but sunshiny shoes with strong rubber soles
real leaf-kickers, city-trekkers

not stoles of mink or lynx or wolf
nor cuffs of lace to dip your wine in 
but brown adventure jacket, battered, dapper
owned by many, always yours

not pre-ripped, pre-faded, sexy/shabby denim
nor embroidered like a wild west that never was
but turquoise jeans, color of a merrow’s blood
rolled to sea-wave navy at the cuffs

may your socks ne’er be matched
may your lenses ne’er be scratched 
may your gleam never dim
may the hum on your lips be a hymn
to human genius

may the laundry of our lives brighten us 
may the dishes of our lives polish us 
may the theatre of our lives mischief us 
may the kerchiefs of our lives babushka us
and all our friends and lovers rise to strengthen us 
when fragile we fall to the bedrock below

and if fragile you fall to the bedrock below
may your sunshine shoes and strong rubber soul

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