“Complaint to Betsy’s Shoe, Found in a Bowl of Popcorn at 8 a.m.”

This is my entry for this week's challenge on WildPoetry forum. The instructions were to write a poem, 32 lines or less, addressing the object in the given title. [Disclaimer--Betsy also happens to be my sister's name, but this has nothing to do with her--the title was supplied with the challenge :) ]


“Complaint to Betsy’s Shoe, Found in a Bowl of Popcorn at 8 a.m.”


She took you out on a tuesday night
instead of waiting for the weekend.

I can't say I'm surprised. But if you were mine,
I'd save you for someone special, slip

you over nude, sheer-to-waist control-
top panty hose, fresh from the package.

She didn't even loosen your strap
before tossing you and your mate

across her side of the bedroom.
Your red leather must have shouted

"fuck me" to the frat boy who snores
from behind the flimsy curtain Betsy

strings up when she takes you out
of the closet. It's not your fault.

You are no whore. You sleep
alone in a bed of stale popcorn

never wake me up with muffled
moaning and the thwaka thwaka

of the loft against the cinderblock wall.
I am no prude, but using you

for a quick lay is plain wrong. I lift
you from your salty slumber, wipe

grit from your smooth skin. Sun
sparkles off your mirror image.

I grant you both asylum beneath my pillow.
Betsy will never know. Tonight our dreams

will be filled with the whisper of a silk dress
and red shoes dancing.