When they cleared my grandmother from her apartment,
I took the shoes. They fit like Cinderella. Four boxes
of Ellen Tracey and Bass, fringed boots, espadrilles,
Louboutin heels – not the shoes of a homebound
grandmother, but when you die, you leave all your previous souls behind.
Clad in her sneakers, loafers, even cowboy boots,
I feel like Dorothy, walking in the shoes of a dead woman
who will never come home.
© 2021 Jewish Young Professional