Oz

 

Her sexed-up ruby red slippers

looked nothing like Dorothy’s

unless, perhaps, from an R-rated

version of the movie classic.

 

From afar, I admired them and

their glitzy bows that flirted, winked

from the backs of her stilettos.

 

I admired, too, her chutzpah

for wearing that fun, fabulous,

female-affirming footwear.

 

I felt like Auntie Em—stodgy, practical,

knowing such a chance to wear those

shoes never occurred in my lifetime.

 

poem by,

Janine P. Dubik

© 2022

jpdubik@yahoo.com

image created with Pixelcut