Stiletto Boot On The Side Of The Highway

by Juliana Strawn BC ʻ14

Stiletto boot on the side of the highway

Like my soul.

Broken, dirty, missing a strap.

O, my soul.

Am I nothing more than an old stiletto

tossed aside on the road?

Are my sins visible

like a broken stiletto heel?

Could a beaver live inside me?

Is there any hope for life

in my broken, broken soul?

Despite my Grandfatherʼs protests,

I stop the car

and pull over on the side of the road.

The door creaks when I open it.

Creak creak.

My soul creaks when I open it.

Creak creak.

I need to oil it so it wonʼt creak.

I pick up the stiletto boot.

My soul.

I sniff it.

Is it empty?

No! There is a family of worms in it!

There is life in my soul!

I take the stiletto to my grandfather.

How can this bitter old man understand my awakening?

I place the stiletto boot in his lap.

He cautiously picks it up

and tentatively eats part of it.

A hunger for knowledge.

I think he understands.

The Philolexian Society
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