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July/August 2000

The Labor of Shoes By Johnson Cheu.   Then I remember my shoes. How I have to put them on. How bending over to tie them up, I will look into the earth. -- Charles Simic Some mornings I forget how it is to live in this body. I watch the sun rising over fields and river, crimson overtaking blue.   Then I remember to put on my shoes. Bending over to pull up my leg, I remember Mom flexing ankle, bending immobile toes, daily cajoling foot into shoe. How, at ten, I contorted knees, ankles, toes, over an hour-and-a-half, finally triumphant. How every day for a whole summer, I practiced. How over a year of therapy I learned to tie them up. The entire ritual of foot to shoe, lace, and bow completed in ten minutes. Poems, like shoes, are daily labor -- Connections to our bodies and the earth. Tracking where we've been and where we've yet to travel. Johnson Cheu   This poem first appeared in Slide magazine. Back to table of contents