poem

by Matthew Lee

Moccasins

Your moccasins from Idaho,

Water-logged. Tanned by your mother’s incessant

Reproofs, your acquiescences cocooned

In its tender holds. You do not know it,

But I see the cracks in your

Chrysalis, the beginning of

A private metamorphosis. See—

Your slender fingers as you close the blinds

To protect your precious potted plants

From an overdose of life, in that benign grip

Is the key to your freedom. See?

Tomorrow is renovation day. I will not

Hear a word otherwise. Imagine—

New curtains, new carpets. Bring anew

Your childhood, and to complete the reprise

Place on those two small feet

Your moccasins from Idaho.

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Matthew Lee is a writer living in Melbourne, Australia. His work appears or is forthcoming in The Brussels Review, Meniscus Literary Journal, and Neologism Poetry Journal, among others. He is the editor of The Penelope Review.