We
held a funeral
for
your Jimmy Choos
scripted
after the ceremonies
we
performed for the goldfish
who
survived long enough to be named.
Already
your feet have flattened
and
you move through the days
in
perpetual company.
We
raise our glasses
to
stilettos
and
the rush of city streets.
Still
flats are no bad fate
with
your feet firm on the earth
and
the future waiting with you.
