My Shoes

Try walking in these shoes
just for one day.
Your voice sharpened by
authority – a self important
tyrant of numbers counting
lives in dollars.
My money or my life?
Extorting me for
capsules of poison
without which I die.
I found a pot of gold
burried deep out
in our backyard.
Yet treasure comes with
a high price of stress
to pay for my life.
“Have a great day!
I hope you get well soon!
You got lucky to find
some money, huh?”

What metastatic meant
you could not say.
Upon learning
humbled and teary
you passed me away
to the next voice
who politely said
“We released yout account!
Tomorrow the pills
arrive withouta required
signiture and thank you.”
Adults need no reminder
of mortality
or the language
of a parent scolding
a child for soiling
a pretty new dress.
Just for a day
try walking in these
tight slippers.
They cause painful
Ruby red magic gone,
where can I return
if there’s no
place to call home.
Never for one day
may you talk to
another adult weighted
down by death every night.
If I matter at all, really
it’s only the money,
why you call me honey.

I see bees now became an endangered
species, yet they sting me, too.