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Danny Lawless
The Shoes of the Old Ones
Their makers vanished, along with the horses and clouds that admired
themselves in the cobbler’s window.
The uppers of heavy tooled leather, like an old-fashioned valise or
portfolio into which important papers are
slipped, bruised with the seal of a bank, or even an empire.
Thick-soled, cut broad across the instep, bearing,
if somehow held close, the expected scents of their human owners:
sweetish and fearsome. I see them lined
up beneath the pews at church, like sentences in an archaic tongue,
punctuated by the tips of canes.
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| Danny Lawless: "I have
published in
Iron Mule, Kentucky
Poetry Review, Iron City Review, and The Louisville
Review. I teach at St. Petersburg College:
film, humanities, writing." email: Danny
Lawless |
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