Red shoes

I stand in the ring
In the dead city
And tie on the red shoes...
They are not mine
They are my mother’s.
Her mother’s before.
Handed down like an heirloom
But hidden like shameful letters.
The house and the street where they belong
Are hidden and all the women, too,
Are hidden….

by Anne Sexton

França, junho/2008
Foto: Julia Braga