I was so happy
when I graduated from Velcro,
ready for pursuits more serious
than sandals could condone.
Progress comes with strings attached —
tugged, knotted, pulled tight.
Step by step, I climb higher.
I am ready to lace up.
I take a knee,
as if to be knighted —
a rehearsal for a proposal
I’ll one day make, grounded and certain.
Loose strings don’t loop well.
They need to smother the ankle,
like a secret. Careful not to cut circulation.
Bunny ears, threaded in practiced symmetry,
a lesson in patience
I’m still learning —
how to lace these days neatly,
how to knot up what’s left undone.
When I step on my laces,
the smallest crack forms.
The ends frayed, split
like conflicting versions of the same event,
gray with age —
a reminder:
neglect accumulates quietly.
One misstep is enough.
Care, or its absence, always frays at the edges.
I doubt you’ll sprain your ankle at that pace.
It’s mostly about not tripping yourself up —
it’s not the shoes,
it’s how aware you are
when you wear them.
I’ve had steel toe boots
boost me past six feet,
kicking through storms
without wet socks.
Nails underfoot —
I walked away clean.
I’ve never tap danced a day in my life.
If those shoes ever find me,
I’ll be sure to tap in.
Phillip Elliott teaches special education in Brooklyn, New York. He co‑wrote “A Couple L’s,” the song that ended up in the Emmy‑nominated film Personal Statement. His poems “I Still Remember” and “Tugging At The Thread” will appear in Down in the Dirt this July. “Two-Thirds of a Wing & a Prayer,” “Unexpected Secret,” and “A High Degree of Certainty” were published by ManicWorld Magazine.
Featured image by Andrew Itaga on Unsplash.
