the death of a slipper and a poem

In all the world, there is nothing quite so comforting as woolly socks, except for woolly socks paired with woolly slippers and flannel jammies. This week, I replaced my worn red slippers with a fresh new pair of oatmeal Haflinger woollies. I couldn't bear to throw my dear friends in the trash, so not only did I spare the girls from the landfill, I gave them a noble Viking funeral, as well.  This event sparked the interest of my muse, but aside from the slippers, I think this piece stands very nicely on its own.

Ignition


Take me fast, quiet,

two guards at every door.

Wrap me tight in your extravagant 

straitjacket where the strangling 

is clean and silent, since when I kiss,

it will not be as a sister.

You have seen my complete dossier;

I would have made a great man,

but I am a woman, subtle,

but effective. Do not toss
me, deranged, in your landfill. 

It is more palatable to give me 

something rich and strange,

tribal, like a Viking funeral. 

Tess Kincaid

November, 2010


Would you like me to read it to you?