the souling of her glass
who hears it weeping in the world

                     ***

my saline slipper O
how broken at the stroke
mid night and rooted
cinder sole sister-soul call it
wound
metered foot just say she was exploring dew
(and ran)

                     ***

her glassy foot no longer keeps inside her
an epenthetic slipper where she lept
the step(h) that wore the night that night the last
my souling world danced unseen with you
the heart she loved unloved you pinned inside her
confined she was and to me pinned
a purity just then in love with god and make
believe
in men
the ball
O how from all
that truth she ran
my sweet saline Selene
I am no better for that silent h
you left me when you lept my step, my steph
but better where you left my edges bleeding


                   ***   

she ran and so in me let run
break free the ball to run like she
from you and here and too let her
come speak of breaking in her broken way
the shoe (and suitor of meticulous pursuit)
how pale the dead and missed
the miss who forms abyme
console con sal (enlivener) the step
so truly dead so fully stained, she fled

©2007 stephanie pope Deep Wounds, White Stocking Tale Poetry