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Michael Benedikt
Michael Benedikt
Michael Benedikt was born in 1935 in New York City. He received...
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FURTHER READING
Poems and Shoes
Black Nikes
by Harryette Mullen
Derrick Poem (The Lost World)
by Terrance Hayes
My Shoes
by Charles Simic
New Shoes
by Honor Moore
Red Shoes
by Honor Moore
Red Slippers
by Amy Lowell
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The European Shoe

 
by Michael Benedikt

The European Shoe is covered with grass and reed, bound up and wound
    around so that it may slip easily over the wearer's head.

In case you are an aircraft pilot, you must take care that the 
    European Shoe does not creep off your foot, and begin to 
    make its way carefully across the fusilage.

The European Shoe pressed against the fugitive's nose, preventing it
    from imminent departure.

The European Shoe spends summers in delightful ways. A lady feels its 
    subtle and unexpected pressure the length of her decolletage. 
    (It winters in pain).

That time I lent you my European Shoe you departed with a look of 
    grandeur, and in total disrepair. 

The European Shoe knocks on the door of the carefree farmerette. "The 
    harvest has been gathered in, ha, ha," it says, moving shyly forth 
    along the edge of the couch.

I pointed to the European Shoe. I ate the European Shoe. I married 
    the European Shoe.

Tears fall from the eye of the European Shoe as it waves goodbye to us 
    from the back balcony of the speeding train...

It helps an old lady, extremely crippled and arthritic, move an 
    enormous cornerstone. It invents a watch which, when wound up 
    tightly, flies completely to pieces. 

It was a simple and dignified ceremony, distinguished for its gales of
    uncontrollable laughter, in which I married the European Shoe.

If it rains, the European Shoe becomes very heavy. I failed to cross 
    the river, where thousands of European Shoes lay capsized.

And so we lived alone, we two, the envy of our neighborhood, the 
    delight of our lively hordes of children.

I saw a flightful of graceful sparrows heading to distant, 
    half-forgotten islands, over the distant seas; and in the midst of 
    that annually questing company, I saw the European Shoe. 

It never harmed anyone, and yet it never really helped anyone.

Gaily it sets out into the depths of my profoundest closet, to do 
    battle with the dusts of summer....






From The Body, published by Wesleyan University Press, 1968. Copyright © 1968 by Michael Benedikt. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of the author.
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