Her ripped up sneakers have barely missed erasing my little body from existence 

When she walks, the ground shakes

it does not tremble out of fear or cry about imminent doom

it rattles with profound love and a willingness to instead go barefoot 

I never have the time to look under her shoes,

had I seen beyond the off- white blanket of dust, 

I imagine the bubblegum pieces which had found themselves a home under her heelnot in her mouth, but in the dent of her heel 

birthday balloons, minty toothpaste, and a scarf from her grandma,

she keeps the invisible there,

the unspeakable, 

what does not fit and what does not want to fit 

Her feet do not take her places, her mind does, 

the collected palace of memories buried below is not meant to be hidden, 

it just has not been exposed.