I wore my mother’s shoes
like I was born to it.
As I slid into the point of the toes
and lost myself in crushed soles,
I took my place on leggy pedestals,
suspended in her perfectly unbalanced world,
and I was her, finding myself
hemmed in by an important handbag,
flashing red-stained smiles,
pushed by laughter and applause.
And sometimes I wobbled.
And sometimes I tried to run.