Poetry Issue 15

   Issue #17 : July-December 2012

Dan Kraines



Boots


      Steel toe, brown
      leather, a metal ring at the ankle:
      boots I bought to look like Jim Morrison—

      ecstasy of a few more
      inches, standing higher, thrown outside
      myself: ecstasy of the pool water

      cool glowing
      as I pulled off the boots, clothes,
      jumped in flailing naked. Floating,

      near the girl gently dipping her ankles,
      bootless, submerging,

      bare in lack. Worship of what I did not
      have not knowing
      then I could have had anything but

      wanted want;

      deprivation—
      tongue of leather,
      the high front of the boot gripped

      most of my shin, the instep
      molded to my feet;
      shitkickers: if all life’s grandeur is something with

      a girl in summer,
      trample
      on the past; ecstasy

      was a dirty blonde from Michigan
      who smoked unfiltered Lucky
      Strikes,

      reading Baudelaire, near
      the pool, Rimbaud,
      the boots

      poet boots: ecstasy,
      deprivation—hard
      against ground, heel smack, crunching.