House Shoes
The house shoes sit alone
as their owner did toward the end.
Dignified by scrapes and wrinkles,
their stained surfaces became substitutes
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for what was once new and supple
honor how endurance toughens through circumstance.
The slippers darken with each day like
the owner’s sun-soaked face and arms.
Despite the blood-brown gouges and scars
on fingers ripped by cotton bolls, a beauty survives.
They too once smelled water-crisp
as dew on a frosty morn.



