Red Shoes

I used to be
a chubby girl
dressed in hand-me-down
underwear, sprawled
in front of the refrigerator,
across the bumpy road
from Poggense's pig farm.

Manure and leaf smoke
used to nose themselves
into our sticky kitchen,
coating the yellow linoleum
and the shiny, red shoes
I used to pile inside
the sun-warped screen door.