portion of the artwork for Timothy Kercher's poem

My Right Shoe
Timothy Kercher

I just discovered I spend
more time than I thought
with one size 11 foot in
a hollow dirt mound—
and to tell the truth,
it came cheap. It had taken
my right foot time to adjustó
that I couldn’t find a match
for my left was a problem.
One I got used to—the imbalance
of a brisk left step always
followed by the dawdling plod
of my right. Sometimes I
walk so slow it’s as if Iím
following myself, the sensation
so real I keep looking
over my shoulder. But thatís
not the worst of it—people
ask questions like, “What’s that
you’re wearing?” I tell them
“A grave.”


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 30 | Fall 2010