Glass Slippers by Kay Ryan

Despite the hard luck
of the ugly stepsisters,
most people’s feet will fit
into glass slippers.
The arch rises, the heel
tapers, the toes align
in descending order
and the whole thing slides
without talcum powder
into the test slipper.
We can shape to the
dreams of another; we are
eager to yield. It is a
mutual pleasure to the holder
of the slipper and to the
foot held. It is a singular
moment—tender, improbable,
and as yet unclouded by the
problems that
hobble the pair
when they discover that
the matching slipper
isn’t anywhere, nor does
the bare foot even share
the shape of the other.
When they compare,
the slippered foot makes
the other odder: it looks
like a hoof. So many miracles
don’t start far back enough.

This entry was posted in poetry, relationship and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Glass Slippers by Kay Ryan

  1. Jerome Bloom says:



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