A scuffed red shoe
sits crumpled
under the weight
of time and despair,
its bright color long faded,
its mate long lost.
Those heeled red shoes
in the closet,
always waiting,
her anchor
and antenna,
ready to propel
to holidays,
dances.
In the freight car
they smirked when seeing
her red shoes on this trip.
She placed them
with the other shoes
outside the shower room.
The door slammed shut.
As her lungs cried for air
her final dance began,
this time barefoot.