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Regina’s Shoes


In a city park, on a wooden bench

I’m swimming in the dark. The moon is speaking French.


Every word I wrote gathers like a warm

perfect castle moat, and I refuse to storm


the walls she lies behind, the bed I need to make,

the faulds she’ll never find, the keep I cannot take.


I don’t want to be. I don’t want to see.

I am not amused.   Those weren’t Regina’s shoes.


I could make her smile about an arrow slit.

And I would run a mile if the shoes would fit.


Am I just a fool, a fracture in her fort,

exception to her rule, a jester in her court?


Allegiances I pledge are a poison moss

on the wooden edge of the threshold I won’t cross.


I know this bridge I drew is mine.

I keep the picture in my mind.


I don’t think that she could ever understand

I could never be someone’s other man.


The armour’s never shone, but I could never trust

her autumn coat of arms, that it wouldn’t rust. 


The songs that I would place on her parapet

wither like her face in my oubliette.

© Audsongs 2018

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