Poem by Francesca Lia Block

Some of you know that I like Francesca Lia Block's work; in addition to her prose she does poetry. This one was posted today in her MySpace blog http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=235036127&blogID=381337615



Friday, April 18, 2008


the red shoes part ii

lydia gave me the pink satin la boutin's with the shiny red soles
but i only got to wear them once
hobbling up the drive lined with candles and christmas lights
in my tight pearl-covered wedding dress
that i hadn't worn in nine years
but donned in spite of stains and memories for the winter ball
i could barely stand but i danced anyway
in a room full of teenage swans and their boys
and older couples in tuxedos and cocktail dresses
there did not seem to be any of the single men i expected
graying screenwriters who'd been punk rockers
by the end of the night i could not walk
i took off the shoes and held sera's hand
with each step down the drive
pain shot up through my body like an injection of red satin poison

i went to the doctor who told me i would need new plastic toe joints
and that if i wore heels again i'd be hospitalized
and every time i left his office
the pain only got worse
as if i stepped on shards of glass
as if he'd cut off my feet
and left me stumps

i thought i could never hike or dance again
let alone wear anything besides sneakers
i thought i'd have to burn the shoes
along with my wedding dress
and what would i wear to present that award
in front of a thousand people?
shoes matter especially for a woman
who has always relied on them to distract people from her face

in my despair we spoke again
i met you in the softly carpeted hotel lobby
and you told me i looked good in sneakers
and you told me i could go barefoot to present that award
"like a fairy," you said, "that's how they see you anyway"
and i remembered how when we used to spend time together
you had rubbed my feet and made me swoon from it
and once you had revealed a secret
about a woman with a toe ring in a café in new york

when you got the room you undressed me slowly
and you took the time to notice that the color on my toes
was darker than before
but you didn't look too long into my eyes
or kiss my mouth that much
or touch
my feet or tell me secrets

still i ran down the stairs with you afterwards
light as air into the night
and for a few days all the pain was gone

"i'm not ready yet," you said
"it's too soon, i didn't expect…"
and though i understand
i had wanted you to take away the pain again
to paint me like you promised
like my father always said he would
and never did

once before we fucked
you seduced me with a nude by lucien freud
her legs spread wide in hard light
i wonder if you'd make me look like that
if you'd show the pain in my feet
and the judgments made upon my body
or if you'd only show
the love and uncertainty
in my eyes
and also your desire

i've found a different doctor now
a kind one who told me i would be all right
and told me it would hurt
when he put the needle in
it did, so much i screamed
but afterwards i walked painlessly again
as if you and i had just made love
and who knows?
maybe the pain won't come back
and i won't need you desperately
but want you still
i will

i want to knock on your door
barefoot in a fairy dress
i want to lie on your bed and put the red shoes on
and dance on my back with you all night
and never stop
we're both artists born
the imagination never scares us
and neither does a nice little fetish once in awhile
i think they can be healing actually
like that poet i knew with the rare and painful disease
who married a dominatrix and before he died
she saved his life

7:22 AM