shoes by the door

let's kick down the barefoot door.
i have nothing for running,
just a kite made of house flies.
i crouch & treat each shoe like 
the animal it is. hungry for a mouthful
of stones. i collect doorways
in a little photo album beneath 
the floorboards. the shoes wake up 
at night & i have to come & teach them
homosexuality again. tongues of fire.
a television the size of my palm 
which i carry from room to room
like a candle. i let the shoes out
so that they can frolic. i ask them,
"can you just promise to come back?"
they don't always. sometimes
they get eaten by wandering bicycles.
i try so hard to cram my body
into sepulchers. it gets loose.
the shoes demand flesh. crave a warning.
i put them to sleep. two by two.
a party for an arch. the storm is coming
& they say the water will rise up
to our knees. for now though
we are married just like we wanted to be.
the door is locked & the shoes
are done kicking. i feed them each
a little beetle. they are greedy & 
try to swallow my hands too.  
i almost let them. i want to know
what is is they're yearning to make from me.