If Shoes Feel No Sorrow

Before you set out,

ready a sled for the dogs,

and for yourself

a good pair of shoes.

Your own heat will keep you warm,

your eyelashes screen the flooding dust

of everything abandoned.

Whether you sing of them or not,

green leaves are good rations,

and everywhere a sign

you may wave to neighbors.

My neighbors are rich,

their murky nights ending in pleasure.

Technology and money, their balcony

an aquarium. The whole winter

I only once saw their shadows.

Setting out, forget the main roads.

Shape your own shoes

like delicate leaves

resembling no others.

If shoes feel no sorrow

and I’ve not yet found my own,

I alone will come barefoot

to see you off.