Selected Poems
Shoes
My mother always awoke first.
My father's shoes waited out each morning
by his side of the bed and retired each evening
on the rug in my parents' corner closet.
Simple soft black leather slip on shoes
house loafers that turned away the blues
after all day on his feet at work.
My father passed the daily tumult and any pending cataclysms
With proper mass-pulpit responses and memorized catechism.
He never tore a side snag and polished out any feeling alone.
Those shoes lasted over half a dozen places he had called home.
I will never be asked to fill his footsteps
because he carried me on his shoulders
No matter how long the journey, with each step he goes
a faithful Irish walking man will never wear out his souls.
My father's shoes waited out each morning
by his side of the bed and retired each evening
on the rug in my parents' corner closet.
Simple soft black leather slip on shoes
house loafers that turned away the blues
after all day on his feet at work.
My father passed the daily tumult and any pending cataclysms
With proper mass-pulpit responses and memorized catechism.
He never tore a side snag and polished out any feeling alone.
Those shoes lasted over half a dozen places he had called home.
I will never be asked to fill his footsteps
because he carried me on his shoulders
No matter how long the journey, with each step he goes
a faithful Irish walking man will never wear out his souls.
