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.